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The pain began to ebb away as quickly as it had come, leaving Jianyu panting and thoroughly pissed off. He rubbed his temples, muttering curses under his breath before forcing himself to his feet.
Still scowling, he stalked toward the cavern's entrance, where Zhenfeng sat with his usual unapproachable demeanor.
He was leaning against the rock wall, his posture relaxed but his sharp eyes scanning the world beyond the cave with the precision of someone who'd spent years surviving in hostile environments.
"Move over," Jianyu grumbled as he plopped down beside him, his irritation practically radiating off him.
Zhenfeng raised an eyebrow, his expression as impassive as ever. "What's with the attitude, plant nerd? Did one of your magic fruits bite back?"
"Ha, ha," Jianyu deadpanned, glaring at the distant trees rather than meeting Zhenfeng's gaze.
Zhenfeng scoffed and turned his gaze back toward the outside.
The sky had already turned to night, and the stars still shone brightly, even though the Earth had been ravaged by the Black Bloom virus—a vicious plague that transformed once-harmless plants into ruthless killers.
The virus had been spreading for two years now. It was first discovered in the city of Lianzhou when a lotus farmer noticed something strange about his crops. The lotuses seemed to move on their own, and some even appeared to grow hard white structures—almost like teeth.
As an agricultural scientist, Jianyu was among the first to hear about the incident. He and his team initially dismissed it as a new plant disease. "Totally harmless for humans as long as it's not consumed," he'd thought.
The news made its way to newspapers, TV broadcasts, and radio shows, but who really cared about some new plant disease?
Jianyu didn't begin to worry until his senior mentioned something odd about the plants they were studying—how they were becoming… aggressive.
The first chaos broke out in the laboratory where Jianyu worked. The plants they had brought in as samples went berserk.
The plants didn't just grow wild—they became monsters.
It started with a low rustling sound, like leaves brushing against each other in the wind.
Jianyu and his colleagues didn't think much of it. Then the ivy tendrils began to move—deliberately. They lashed out, wrapping themselves around desks and equipment, yanking them to the ground with an unnatural force.
Someone screamed as one of the vines shot out, coiling around a lab assistant's leg and dragging him across the room. Blood sprayed as the ivy tightened, snapping bones like twigs.
Jianyu froze, horrified, as the once-harmless potted plants began to uproot themselves, their stems thickening and splitting apart into claw-like appendages.
"Run!" his senior yelled, shoving Jianyu toward the emergency exit.
Chaos erupted in the lab. Vines whipped through the air, shattering glass and overturning shelves.
One by one, Jianyu's colleagues fell—some crushed, others impaled by the jagged roots that burst from the floor like spears. The screams echoed in his ears as he sprinted down the hallway, the faint metallic scent of blood mixing with the earthy stench of the plants.
By the time he and a handful of survivors reached the underground storage vault—a reinforced bunker designed to protect sensitive research materials—only 15 of them remained. They barricaded themselves inside, sealing the heavy doors with trembling hands.
Jianyu collapsed onto the cold, hard floor, his chest heaving. He couldn't stop shaking. He couldn't stop hearing the screams.
Outside the lab, the nightmare had already begun as well.
Reports flooded the emergency channels: plants were attacking people in the streets, in their homes, in the parks. The Black Bloom virus wasn't just a disease—it was a death sentence. Entire trees uprooted themselves and crashed through buildings. Flowers blossomed into grotesque, razor-edged monstrosities that shredded anything in their path. Even the grass wasn't safe—long blades twisted together, slicing through flesh like knives.
In the major cities, panic erupted like wildfire. People screamed and ran as vines tore through windows and snaked down alleyways, hunting anything that moved. Families desperately packed into cars, only to find the roads blocked by overturned vehicles and barricades of thorn-covered plants.
Those who couldn't escape armed themselves with whatever they could find. Guns, machetes, baseball bats, even kitchen knives—anything to fight back against the plants. But the plants were too many, too strong. For every vine hacked apart, two more grew back in its place.
Jianyu watched the live broadcasts from the bunker's small TV screen, his heart sinking lower with each passing second.
In the footage, people fought for their lives, their faces twisted in terror. Some climbed rooftops, hoping to escape, only to be dragged down by vines that climbed after them. Others barricaded their doors and windows, but it was never enough.
Jianyu knew he couldn't stay in the bunker forever. While the 14 other lab workers insisted on remaining in the safety of their underground haven, Jianyu couldn't shake the growing dread clawing at his chest.
"There aren't any plants out there! You know nothing grows beneath the lab!" he argued, his voice cracking under the strain of desperation. His hands trembled as he clutched the edge of the metal door, his knuckles white.
His younger sister. She was just fifteen years old—still a child. She had to be terrified, stranded in a city turned nightmare. Images of her huddled in a corner, crying, flashed through his mind. He couldn't let her face that alone. He wouldn't.
The others were reluctant, their faces pale and drawn with fear. "You're going to get yourself killed," one of them muttered. But Jianyu begged—no, pleaded—until their uneasy silence gave way.
They let him go. The heavy door creaked open, and Jianyu stepped out into the dark world above, armed with nothing but a hoe he had grabbed haphazardly. It was absurd—a farming tool against the monsters that had torn through steel and bone alike. But it was all he had.
He ran like a man possessed. Every step was frantic, sharp, his movements more instinctive than deliberate. His feet pounded against the cracked asphalt as the distant sound of rustling leaves sent shivers down his spine. The scent hit him first—a sickly-sweet smell, earthy and damp, one he'd come to associate with death. Without a second thought, he swung the hoe wildly at every creeping vine that slithered too close, his mind blank except for a single thought: Get to her.
His house wasn't far from the lab—just a 15-minute walk on a normal day. But now, every second felt like an eternity. His breath came in ragged gasps as he pushed forward, his heart pounding in his chest.
When he finally reached his home, Jianyu froze.
The door had been torn off its hinges, and inside was a scene from his worst nightmares. Vines—grotesque and pulsing with unnatural life—had coiled around his little sister. Her body hung limp, the light already gone from her wide, unseeing eyes.
"No…" The word escaped his lips in a broken whisper before his knees gave out beneath him.
Something in him snapped.
With a guttural scream, he lunged forward, swinging the hoe with all the strength his trembling body could muster. He hacked at the vines, his movements wild and erratic, as if sheer rage alone could undo what had already been done.
The plants fought back, their thorny appendages slicing into his skin, but he didn't care. He kept swinging, kept screaming, until there was nothing left but torn greenery scattered around him.
Jianyu collapsed to the ground, his chest heaving as blood and dirt stained his trembling hands. He crawled toward his sister's lifeless body, pulling her into his arms.
She was so light. Too light.
"Xiao Yu," he choked out, his voice barely audible. "I'm so sorry… I'm so sorry I wasn't here."
Tears streamed down his face, hot and relentless, as he clung to her. The warmth of her small frame was already fading, her skin turning cold against his touch. He sobbed, his cries echoing into the hollow silence of the destroyed house.
She was all he had. The last piece of family he'd clung to in this hellish world. And now…
Now, he had nothing.