Chapter Seventeen: Contradictions (Part One)

The more Liang Jing thought about it, the more excited he became, as if he had uncovered a trove of gold. Think about it—if you could unleash the force of a full-power attack with only a fraction of your strength, then you could fight for a long time with minimal effort. Even someone stronger than you wouldn’t be able to withstand the relentless assault of a tireless monster in a constant state of all-out attack. After all, fighting with full power quickly drains one’s stamina; even with determination, anyone would soon collapse. Full-force attacks aren’t like a marathon, where you just need to keep going.

No wonder Liang Jing had never noticed this before. It turned out that only when the mind conjured up the intent to attack would this state appear. During ordinary activities, eating or working, it was inaccessible. Even in previous battles, Liang Jing used over eighty percent of his strength, if not all, so he had never realized this peculiar state existed.

After repeated attempts, Liang Jing was soon able to enter this state at will, whether in battle or at rest. With a mere thought, he could unleash his body’s maximum strength with minimal effort. He named this state “battle mode.”

Liang Jing pinched a small pebble between his thumb and two middle fingers, aiming the red glow at the mutant mosquito’s head and thorax. With a flick, the pebble shot out like a bullet, as swift as lightning, reaching its target in a split second. The mutant mosquito didn’t even have time to react.

With a sharp whistle and a dull thud, the pebble struck the mosquito in the chest, shattering its body into two segments, nearly blowing it apart. Its limbs broke off in mid-air and scattered around the room.

Perfect. The utility of [Violent Throw] was now vastly increased. It was a deadly and stealthy move, far more convenient and versatile than a gun.

Now, the only problem left was ammunition. Pebbles and marbles wouldn’t do; they were too scarce, hard to find, inconvenient to store, and their irregular shapes affected accuracy. Their weight and hardness weren’t enough, either.

Suddenly, Liang Jing’s eyes lit up.

Steel balls!

Yes—steel balls were much easier to find. If he could locate a factory that produced them, he could easily find hundreds of thousands, even millions. Steel balls were used in all sorts of equipment—bearings, motorcycles, aerospace, medical devices—so there were plenty of manufacturers. Not far from Clear Water Bay, there was a factory specializing in steel balls.

Liang Jing had once visited that factory for a job interview. All the steel balls there had been heat-treated, perfectly round and polished, available in various sizes and specifications, and in huge quantities. If he could get in now, he could easily collect tens of thousands. With those stored in his inventory, he wouldn’t have to worry about ammunition for a long time.

He imagined that, using large steel balls and his enhanced strength, he could deliver more devastating damage than a sniper rifle—ones as big as a thumb, or even larger.

But as he looked at the sky, both suns had already set; darkness was fast approaching. He could only make plans for the future. Mutant monsters roamed everywhere, danger lurked around every corner, and the factory wasn’t close by.

For now, he decided to go to the bicycle and motorcycle repair shop at the entrance of Clear Water Bay to scavenge some steel balls as a stopgap measure.

Night was falling fast—the first night of the apocalypse. Liang Jing felt uneasy.

He walked along the filthy, broken road, the walls and streets stained with blackish-red blood. Now and then, human remains came into view—victims of the initial, chaotic attacks by mutant monsters.

Along the way, he used [Violent Throw] to kill off mutant mosquitoes with pebbles, but didn’t encounter any mutant spiders—they seemed to be quite rare. His proficiency with [Violent Throw] rose to 5% at the novice level.

The repair shop was a mess, splattered with blood. Old Zhang, the master mechanic, was gone—no telling what had become of him. But Liang Jing didn’t dwell on it. After searching for a while, he found a batch of suitable steel balls, about the size of a pinky finger—8mm in diameter. There were nearly a thousand, enough to get by, even if they couldn’t unleash his full potential.

By the time he returned to the building where he and Yang Yuyuan had temporarily settled, darkness had fallen. The world was about to be swallowed by night, a planet without lights, shrouded in black.

Inside, everyone had stopped what they were doing and were chatting and laughing. Only Yang Yuyuan was still meticulously checking for any overlooked vulnerabilities, making sure everything was secure and clearing out useless junk.

Liang Jing noticed several new faces in the room—four men in security guard uniforms. He recognized them as former security guards from the factory, now chatting and joking with a few women.

Before the apocalypse, Liang Jing’s relationship with these guards had been average—they’d greet each other in passing, nothing more. Since the world had changed, so had Liang Jing’s demeanor—perhaps his true nature had emerged, making him seem more blunt and unapproachable, not exactly likable. At the sight of his former coworkers, he simply nodded in greeting and ignored whatever they thought of him.

He was aware that his current personality didn’t win people over, but he didn’t care. He felt he was living more freely now than when he’d forced himself to smile in the past—this was his true self, and he no longer wanted to wear a mask.

The newcomers glanced at Liang Jing with somewhat strange expressions. Although he now carried a short sword, wore protective gear, and his body, reinforced by the golden Baroque’s white aura, looked stronger and more intimidating, they didn’t seem to care. In their eyes, Liang Jing was already a dead man—not worth their attention. They went back to laughing and flirting with the women, occasionally getting too familiar, and the women responded with shrieks and giggles.

Liang Jing couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at the scene. These people were astonishingly oblivious to danger, without the slightest sense of crisis. Even at a time like this, they didn’t know when to restrain themselves—they would sooner or later fall prey to mutant monsters or villains.

Gao Fuyu and Liu Zhen were perfect examples.

He glanced over at the group with the pockmarked man. There was a new guy among them—probably someone who’d joined that afternoon. Liang Jing noticed their eyes darting away whenever they looked at him, unconsciously distancing themselves. They must have heard that he’d killed Liu Nengtian and his group earlier. The excitement that pockmarked man had shown earlier was long gone—this was no novel or game, but real life, and people had died right in front of them.

Who wouldn’t be afraid of a killer, especially one so powerful? If he lashed out, he could kill them before they had time to react. And Liang Jing wasn’t exactly warm or talkative; his cold demeanor was a clear warning to stay away, making everyone even more uneasy.

Liang Jing shook his head with a wry smile—clearly, these people hadn’t yet adapted to the harsh new reality of the apocalypse. Or perhaps he had adapted too quickly and stood out too much. But wasn’t this inevitable? In a world of naked survival, where you either eat or are eaten, at this moment, Liang Jing felt out of place among them, so he said nothing more.

“What’s with those guys? When did they show up?” he asked as Yang Yuyuan emerged from the room, checking the window barricades.

“They came not long after we moved in. They wanted to join forces to survive against the monsters,” Yang Yuyuan replied, not thinking much of it. He’d agreed to the guards’ request—after all, they were grown men who could pull their weight.

Liang Jing glanced at Yang Yuyuan but offered no objection. He didn’t exactly approve, since even just food would be a problem, but he already felt distanced from the group and didn’t bother arguing. He knew he was only with them temporarily.

With his current domineering nature, Liang Jing could only feel comfortable as the true leader. Otherwise, he felt restricted—a feeling he disliked.

He smiled bitterly, said nothing more, and found a vacant sofa in a quiet corner to rest his eyes. He was truly exhausted—not physically, but mentally and emotionally. Too much had happened in a single day.

The guards glanced over at Liang Jing, worried he might hear them, and lowered their voices.

“That Liang Jing’s getting more stuck up by the day. Didn’t even bother to greet us…” said the square-faced, middle-aged guard to the others and the women nearby.

“Exactly, the boss is right. He really thinks he’s somebody. People like him deserve what’s coming…” said a tall, thin guard, but cut himself off when he caught the warning look from the boss.

“Liang Jing won’t last long acting like this. Sooner or later, he’ll get what he deserves,” muttered the younger guard, pointing at Liang Jing, trying to impress the women.

Suddenly, Liang Jing’s eyes snapped open, icy and indifferent. The temperature in the room seemed to plummet. All conversation died instantly as everyone sensed the change.