Chapter Seven: Pursuit

The apocalypse descended, and within an hour, all semblance of order had completely collapsed.

Those people from earlier were the perfect example; in the crimson mist, stripped of restraint, their true natures were laid bare without hesitation.

But now that they had chosen to prey on him, he would not let them off so easily.

As soon as this thought arose, a stream of information surfaced in his mind, as if in perfect accord with his desires.

"196 meters away lies the final resting place of the first unlucky soul. As a servant, his master had clearly taken special care of him, allowing him to have a face-to-face encounter with 'the shy one.'"

"283 meters ahead, the servant's master has fallen forever by the wall; you realize his appearance is quite to your liking."

"Fortuitously, 600 meters away, the last fortunate survivor awaits you, already curled up weak and limp beside a trash can on the road leading out of the city."

The information provided the precise locations of the three adversaries. The trouble was, they were scattered; the fortunate part was that they were all positioned along the route out of the city.

Had they not been headed the same way, he would not have risked making a detour just to hunt them down.

He exhaled slowly, then mapped out the group's next moves.

In less than five minutes, Mu Chen's brow began to furrow.

For before them lay a corpse, torn clean in half at the waist.

"Master, this is the servant who was with those two men just now," Lillian reported softly.

Examining the body, he noticed footprints marked with fresh blood nearby, as well as a discarded fruit knife.

"So they really did pass through here," he murmured.

It was easy to imagine: the servant had stayed behind to cover their escape, and upon realizing resistance was futile, his master had turned tail and fled.

After a moment's thought, he instructed Lillian to pick up the fruit knife. They didn't linger.

The marks on the ground made them slow their pace. Following the trail, they could just discern the faint traces of bloody footprints. The prints were hasty and chaotic, and the person who left them was clearly wounded; blood dripped heavily with every step.

The blood was dark red, not yet fully coagulated; when touched with a finger, it was still sticky.

He could surmise this was left by the servant's master.

It also told him the unfortunate man had passed through not long ago and had likely been abandoned by his companion.

The blood grew heavier as they pressed on, the trail lengthening, soaking into the earth. The amount of blood lost was visible to the naked eye.

"So much blood—if it all came from one man, he must be a dried corpse by now," someone muttered.

Just as Mu Chen began to suspect whether the man might already be a withered husk, he found his answer.

Less than ten meters ahead, a figure sat with its back against the wall, motionless.

A male corpse.

He had no expression—because his head was gone.

Blood streamed from the gaping wound at his neck, pooling on the ground and soaking the surrounding soil, painting a gruesome picture.

His dusty gray shirt was now soaked in red, ripped in several places, evidence of a desperate flight.

"In the end, he gave up resisting, sat here and waited to die. He’s been dead no more than ten minutes…" After the initial shock, Mu Chen quickly regained his composure. Though the stench of blood was nauseating, his mind was already at work.

Sade pushed the wheelchair to the corpse.

Though it unsettled him, Mu Chen covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve and bent down to inspect every detail.

There were no signs of struggle; it appeared to be an instant execution. Only a deep knife wound on the leg caught his attention, and the swollen ankle told him the man could no longer run by the end.

So Mu Chen boldly deduced: the man had chosen to sit against the wall, and then—his head had been ripped off in a single motion.

Judging from the torn flesh around the neck, the head had been yanked off as easily as plucking a mushroom.

The blood loss was so severe that it hadn't even managed to spurt high.

Mu Chen’s gaze shifted to a large footprint about two meters from the body.

There was no doubt: it belonged to "the shy one."

"Brother, what do we do now?" Mu Jiuer whispered, unable to hide her fear. She recognized the headless corpse as the middle-aged man who had insulted her earlier.

Now, seeing his corpse, all her previous grievances vanished.

But the footprint from "the shy one" filled her with a chilling dread, as if her soul itself recoiled.

Mu Chen didn’t answer at once.

At that moment, an option appeared before him: "Pick Up."

Within this option, Mu Chen found a wealth of supplies—rope, a lighter, a source of murk, food, and more.

With some deft packing between him and Mu Jiuer, they managed to stash most of it into their backpacks.

At this point, he had collected six portions of the "source of murk," meaning they could survive an extra eighteen hours in the crimson mist.

Mu Chen glanced at the corpse.

"You go on ahead. Don't worry, your brother will be joining you soon in the afterlife."

Then he addressed the group. "Keep moving forward along this road."

They passed by the body.

Mu Chen, deep in thought in his wheelchair, pieced together the clues from the information and what he had observed. He now understood roughly what had happened: at first, the two brothers had teamed up to kill a juvenile aberration. The younger brother, after completing the novice task, unlocked a backpack and a servant, and together they scavenged for supplies. By chance, they encountered Mu Jiuer and hatched a wicked plan. After a series of mishaps, the elder brother abandoned his sibling and fled alone.

This elder brother was evidently more cunning, and Mu Chen recalled their conversation in the restaurant—his words had been measured and cautious.

"That mother and daughter pair… sigh…"

A ruthless man who could abandon his own brother—if left alive, he would become a future threat.

98:24:11…

The countdown in the sky continued to tick down with precision, and Mu Chen’s group was closing in on the elder brother.

Another prompt appeared in his mind.

"Fifty meters to your right, the last lucky survivor has found a moment's peace inside a roadside trash can, but if you mean to take him down, you must silence him quickly—his mouth poses a far greater danger than he himself does."

After reading this, his gaze flicked to Sade.

"Sade, take off your socks. We'll need them shortly."

Finally, the group stopped twenty meters from the trash can.

They could just make out the mouth of a narrow alleyway to the right of the road; it was obvious the trash can was inside.

Seeing the mark on Mu Jiuer’s face, Mu Chen made up his mind.

"Sade, there’s a piece of garbage in the trash can down that alley that needs to be taken out. When we move, subdue him quickly. If he resists, do not hesitate to use force. Lillian, be ready with Sade’s socks—shove them in his mouth as soon as you can!"