Chapter Thirty-Two: The Rain of Insects

Tech Corporation stood at the forefront of global technology, once even launching rockets into space, maintaining partnerships with numerous nations, and wielding vast resources. The branch in Jiangbei City was merely one division, yet even in this apocalyptic era, it thrived with energy and influence.

"There must be plenty of good things in Tech Corporation..." Lin Dong mused, calculating his next move.

But Tech Corporation boasted at least a thousand awakened individuals. Though Lin Dong was formidable, he was far from invincible; taking them all on alone was impossible. Even with Tank, Little Eight, the Doctor, and his two thousand elite zombies, it was uncertain whether he could breach their defenses.

Unless, of course, he could command a million-strong horde. Then, he could charge at any target with impunity!

Perhaps... it was time to expand his territory.

The two thousand followers Lin Dong commanded were merely those from the vicinity of the tower. He had originally gathered them just to ensure his own safety at home, undisturbed by others. Now, however, he was beginning to contemplate raising an army and carving out new lands.

In the days that followed, Lin Dong continued to gorge himself on meat and blood, absorbing all five crystal cores and pushing his strength to new heights. The reach of his domain expanded; at full extension, it could now be sustained for twenty minutes, its power more formidable than ever.

Night fell.

Darkness blanketed the earth, a blood-red moon hung high, tinting the sky a foreboding crimson—yet another night of slaughter.

The area around the tower had not known true peace these past days. Zombies from other territories often wandered into the vicinity, hurling taunts and howls at Tank and his cohorts, their intentions clear. Clashes broke out frequently, the two factions tearing into each other. Tank was not one to show mercy; he smashed the intruders’ heads without hesitation.

Now, Lin Dong stood before the floor-to-ceiling window, gazing into the blackness outside.

Suddenly, a chorus of sharp squeaks echoed from the disarrayed streets below. Glowing green eyes flickered—dozens of pairs—hungry and bloodthirsty. From a roadside sewer emerged a swarm of giant rats, each as large as a piglet. They shrieked, nostrils twitching as they sought prey, quickly zeroing in on the zombies below the tower. In a frenzied rush, they clambered up the zombies, sinking razor-sharp teeth into decaying flesh.

A zombie, covered in writhing rats and barely able to stand, let out a tormented roar. It didn’t last long before collapsing, and the rats devoured it entirely, as if dissolving it into nothingness.

These mutant beasts feasted on zombies as a delicacy.

But the commotion soon attracted the attention of other zombies, who charged in fury, attacking the giant rats.

The rats, agile and cunning, darted away, dodging with ease and mocking the zombies with their nimble leaps, driving their adversaries into frustrated howls.

Just as the rats reveled in their advantage, a shadow flashed by—swift as the wind. Five gleaming claws slashed, slicing rats into six pieces with each stroke. It was Little Eight, the female zombie, her movements so quick she dominated the rats, her face twisted in a playful grin as she turned slaughter into sport.

And she was not alone.

Out of the darkness came another hulking figure—Tank. With hands like bear traps, he snatched up rats, crushing them with a squeeze. The rats kicked and shrieked, but their struggles were futile; Tank delighted in the burst of blood as he squeezed them to pulp, or stomped them into paste, or broke them in two with a twist as easily as snapping a cucumber.

The rats, terrified, scattered in all directions. In moments, the swarm had vanished, swallowed by the night.

Tank, grinning foolishly, hefted two bloody rats and jogged into a nearby alley, tearing into them with gusto as if devouring ripe watermelons, crimson juice splattering his face.

He dared not eat so openly on the street—Lin Dong had warned him against consuming such filth, calling it junk food. If the boss saw him, he would surely be scorned.

Incidents like these—rat attacks and zombie provocations—had grown commonplace. Lin Dong was no longer surprised and couldn’t be bothered to intervene.

...

The next morning dawned heavy and ominous. Thick black clouds smothered the sky, and soon, torrential rain began to fall.

But this was no ordinary rain—within each droplet wriggled a black worm, tumbling from the sky.

It was a rain of insects.

Finger-sized worms rained down, striking the streets and derelict cars with a relentless crackle. In no time, the ground was thick with them.

Inside, Su Xiaorou gasped, her skin crawling with dread. The end times grew stranger by the day; now it rained insects. Who knew what horrors tomorrow would bring?

Lin Dong watched the downpour, brows knitted. The weather was truly abysmal...

Yet he recalled seeing news of fish rains before the apocalypse—tornadoes would lift fish into the sky and then drop them over land. This insect rain must be something of the same sort.

But these worms were unlike anything ordinary. Their mouths bristled with rings of sharp teeth, and they burrowed into the flesh of zombies.

Zombies once agile and fierce grew stiff and clumsy after infestation, as if their bodies were no longer their own.

Fortunately, Lin Dong’s followers were elite and highly intelligent. Before the worms could fully burrow inside, they plucked them out and, in some cases, popped them into their mouths, chewing with relish.

Tank in particular, his hide thick and tough, was utterly unfazed. He grabbed handfuls of worms, tossing them into his mouth as if snacking on crispy noodles.

Finding the taste agreeable, he raised his head and opened his jaws wide to the sky, gulping down worms as though drinking rainwater.

"Ah—thank you, bountiful nature..."

The rain lasted only minutes, but when it ceased, the streets were littered with worms. Disliking sunlight, the creatures quickly wriggled into sewers, burrowed into earth, or vanished into the shadows of walls.

In the alley beside the tower, Tank squatted by the wall, scooping up insects and popping them into his mouth one after another, like a child shelling sunflower seeds.

Little Eight and the Doctor approached, their heads tilted as they watched him.

"Hey, boss said no junk food," the Doctor admonished.

"Shh!" Tank gestured for silence, urging them to keep quiet. He offered a handful of worms to Little Eight.

She eyed them for a moment, considering. The prospect seemed appetizing enough; she took one and tried it.

"Mmm, delicious!"

Soon, she and Tank were crouched together, snacking like two children sneaking treats.

The Doctor, arms crossed and back against the wall, watched the pair with exasperation.

"You’ll be caught by the boss."

"We won’t. He prefers to stay indoors and hardly ever comes out," Little Eight replied knowingly.

But as they spoke, a sinister face suddenly appeared at the entrance to the alley...

...