Chapter Eighteen: Run for Your Life!

At this moment, Liang Jing realized that the so-called "tidewater" was in fact a swarm of mutated rats—countless, innumerable, a wave of desperation crashing toward them, an unthinkable sense of peril looming ahead. Liang Jing felt that, caught in this tide of mutated rats, he would fare no better than the two men ahead; within two or three seconds, he feared he would be swallowed whole.

"Move! Hurry!" Liang Jing snapped out of his daze and shouted fiercely to the people behind him, his face flushed with urgency.

The mutated rat tide surged, sweeping across the land and spreading everywhere. Even the highway they had traversed earlier was engulfed, and the road where the tall man surnamed Wang had fled was now overwhelmed by the rats. Only a single path remained open. Without hesitation, Liang Jing led his subordinates to flee along that lone route. He was not afraid of mutated rats—one or two, or even hundreds, could be handled if terrain allowed. But faced with so many at once, even ten would be difficult to manage.

Squeaking and rustling noises filled the air.

"Hurry! What are you standing around for?" Liang Jing bellowed again at the three men frozen in terror, their faces pale. His voice jolted them awake, and though fear twisted their faces, this time they did not stand idle. They broke into a run in the direction Liang Jing pointed.

With a thud, Liu Zhixiong, the man with weak legs, collapsed to the ground at this critical life-and-death moment, unable to rise. His injured foot had healed after resting for a while following the death of the mutated black-backed dog; yet now, inexplicably, his legs gave out again.

Damn it! Always failing at the crucial moment!

Thunder rumbled—Liang Jing, exasperated, tucked his short knife at his waist, grabbed Liu Zhixiong by the back of his shirt, and hauled him onto the canvas bag strapped to his left shoulder, carrying them both at once. His legs exploded with power, striding forward like a heavy truck, his speed surpassing everyone else.

At the T-shaped junction, six people fled desperately before the sweeping tide. The most astonishing sight was the last to start: a burly man, his whole body a reddish-brown, carrying a canvas bag larger than himself, with an adult man piled atop it, a half-meter short knife at his waist, and a giant weapon—almost as tall as a person—strapped to his back. The canvas bag weighed at least three or four hundred pounds, plus a man of about one hundred and twenty pounds and the one hundred and eighty pounds of "Baroque's Sorrow"—altogether seven or eight hundred pounds. Yet he accelerated, overtaking the others as if they were mere roadside trees, fading into the background as he rushed past.

Running, Liang Jing kept a close eye on the movements of the mutated rats, hoping to find their weakness. Running like this was unsustainable; though the rats were cunning and agile, their straight-line speed wasn't fast. For now, the group was able to keep ahead. But if they matched the rats in stamina, they'd be doomed. The moment anyone slowed, they'd be finished.

Thunder crashed. In Liang Jing's view, as the rat tide surged, flickering with eerie light, trees, utility poles, and signs were toppled and destroyed, even buildings were pushed over and collapsed by the sheer numbers of mutated rats. Fallen trees were reduced to white ash in three seconds under the rats’ gnashing teeth. The devastation left in their wake was worse than a dozen hurricanes. The main flow of the rat tide left few obstacles standing. Looking at the mutated rats with their tiny blood-red eyes, Liang Jing’s heart clenched. Terrifying! Utterly terrifying! He was thankful he hadn’t been surrounded before breaking free; otherwise, even iron bones would be gnawed clean, leaving nothing behind—if they fancied eating bones, that is.

"I’m telling you, Liu Zhixiong, how are you now? Can you put any strength in your legs?"

After a while, Liang Jing had pulled ahead of the others, and he said to Liu Zhixiong. This couldn’t go on; he could help him once or twice, but not forever. He was no nursemaid; if Liu Zhixiong couldn’t learn to adapt, he’d be left behind sooner or later. The others—Wang, the strong man, and the young Ah Yao—were already flushed, almost at their limit, having fled longer than Zhang Hu and the others, sprinting at full speed. If not for the threat to their lives, they would have collapsed long ago. Even now, they were nearly spent. Ling Qinghe, the alluring woman, was slowing down as well; as a woman, her stamina was less, and she looked about to give out.

"Boss! I—I’m alright now, you can put me down." Liu Zhixiong, grateful and ashamed, flushed deeply. He never imagined himself so useless, so humiliating, even worse than Ling Qinghe. More importantly, this was the second time—both times witnessed by Liang Jing. Yet he was immensely grateful; Liang Jing had saved him twice. Without that, he’d have been nothing but bones. Anyone with a conscience would feel gratitude for such a lifesaving favor.

"You need to learn to control yourself, to adapt, or you’ll be left behind by the times. Move!"

Liang Jing set Liu Zhixiong down and ran back. As time passed, the group's speed slowed, and the rat tide drew closer. Despair was etched on their faces; some were ready to give up. How much longer could they last? The rat tide wouldn’t stop; sooner or later, death would come. Their faces flickered with terror, despair, and a longing for release.

"Don’t shoot!" Liang Jing saw Ling Qinghe raise her pistol, about to fire at the approaching rats. In her terror and despair, only the gun brought her comfort and security. Liang Jing hurried over to stop her; he couldn’t let her do that, or the consequences would be catastrophic.

From the beginning, Liang Jing had been observing the rat tide, noticing that although the rats spread in roughly the same direction, there was no unified command. They were scattered, the area they covered growing wider and less dense. Most importantly, the group was not their only target; only a portion of the rat tide pursued them, while others chased different prey—mutated monsters. Liang Jing saw mutated dogs, and even two mutated cattle the size of adult elephants, their black fur glossy. One, slower to react, was engulfed by the rats, its mournful cry fading in seconds, leaving nothing but a skeleton, not a drop of blood. Many other mutated creatures suffered the same fate. Though the mutated rats were weak compared to dogs and cattle, as a tide they were invincible, unstoppable—felling buildings, reducing trees to ash, leaving only bones of living creatures.

If they fired a gun, the noise would surely attract more mutated rats, making them the sole target. Then, escape would be impossible. Liang Jing hoped to minimize their attention, hoping for a chance to slip away.

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