Chapter Sixty-Six: All Must Die

Lin Dong surmised inwardly that the place this woman spoke of must surely be within her own skull.

As she drew nearer, the allure radiating from her grew more intense—her spiritual force had reached its zenith. Yet she was startled to find that Lin Dong stood unmoved, his eyes clear and unclouded.

"What’s going on? Not a flicker of interest? Must I really force your hand with brute strength?"

But in that instant, Lin Dong’s Domain of the Dead unfurled, spreading swiftly and enveloping the woman, an overwhelming pressure crashing down upon her.

Her body stiffened immediately, her flirtatious expression collapsing into one of utter terror.

"You—"

"What’s wrong? Weren’t you enjoying yourself just now?"

Lin Dong’s tone remained even as he raised his dagger and plunged it directly at her head.

Her pupils contracted sharply, a dreadful realization dawning at last.

This man was not human!

She tried to resist with her psychic power, but Lin Dong’s domain was far too powerful—her force was snuffed out, compressed back into her skull before she could even muster it.

It felt as if a pistol had misfired in her mind.

A shrill, agonized scream tore from the woman’s throat, her brain stabbed with pain like a hundred needles. But the cry abruptly ceased.

With a deft twist of his dagger, Lin Dong scooped out a fresh “cherry” from her skull, pocketing both the core and her corpse with practiced ease.

...

The woman’s scream was piercing enough to be heard by two Black Scorpion patrol members outside.

Neither paid it any mind, instead exchanging lewd chuckles.

"Heh, she’s having a wild time tonight..."

"Yeah, sounds like quite the thrill."

"Wonder whose manhood’s been separated from its owner this time."

"Haha, she doesn’t just take heads—she takes everything!"

The two patrollers bantered as they strolled past the door, suspecting nothing. Before long, Lin Dong’s silhouette slipped silently from the room, a phantom in the darkness.

He sensed Black Scorpion members in the rooms to either side.

To the right was the den's minor boss, Duan Xiong—aptly named, for he was a hulking brute, thick-bodied and as hairy as a bear. At the moment, he was engaged in unspeakable acts with four female survivors.

"Brother Xiong, I knew it—you love me best," one woman said, her cheeks flushed.

"Nonsense! Brother Xiong loves me most!" another retorted.

The remaining two women protested as well.

"You two are newcomers—he still prefers us!"

The four began vying for his favor, not out of any fondness for Duan Xiong, but from the twisted attachment born of his constant abuse—their minds warped by Stockholm syndrome.

Duan Xiong roared with laughter at their jealous bickering, deeply satisfied. Before, the Black Scorpion gang had been like rats in the gutter, hounded by all, forced to lurk in the shadows of the dark web. Now, their fortunes had changed—they lived like gods.

Duan Xiong relished this apocalyptic paradise.

...

Lin Dong did not target Duan Xiong first. Instead, he turned and slipped into the room on the left.

The moment he entered, the stench of alcohol hit him. On the bed nearby, someone was snoring thunderously.

Empty bottles littered the floor. A corpulent man lay sprawled, dead to the world, reeking of drink, breath thick with fumes—utterly inebriated, more corpse than man.

"A marinated fellow..." Lin Dong mused, finding it amusing that the man had seasoned himself, the alcohol masking his stench much like drunken shrimp or crab. Lin Dong even thought to commend him for his initiative, saving others the trouble.

With ease, Lin Dong extracted the core from his skull and whisked the body into his storage space.

Within this Black Scorpion den, some worshipped the bottle, others were slaves to lust.

Lin Dong pressed on.

Beyond this room was the place where survivors were kept. There, he sensed dozens of living people.

He entered to find himself in a small warehouse reeking of urine and excrement. Dozens of gaunt, hollow-eyed humans clustered inside. Some slumped against the walls, others sprawled on the ground. The oppressive air was thick with despair and the stench of death.

Several noticed Lin Dong’s approach and instinctively shrank away, not daring to come near. Seeing his clean clothes, they naturally assumed he was with the Black Scorpion gang.

"Please, don’t kill me—let me out, I’ll do anything!"

"Just let me leave—I’ll do whatever you want."

"Please, just a bite to eat... I’m starving!"

"I want to join you! I’ll be cannon fodder if I must—long live Black Scorpion!"

A handful knelt, men and women alike, banging their heads against the floor, teetering on the edge of breakdown.

Lin Dong gazed at them coldly, then nodded.

"Very well."

...

"Huh?"

They were stunned, exchanging dubious glances. Had they really heard correctly? Did he truly agree?

With a wave, Lin Dong produced a bag of sausages—ten in all.

A hush fell as dozens of eyes fixated on the food, saliva pooling in their mouths, their hunger gnawing at the last shreds of sanity.

Though the underground mall held supplies, none were for them. Starved to the brink, they survived only by sheer willpower, on the verge of collapse.

Now, at the sight of sausages, their eyes blazed green.

Then, with another flick of his wrist, Lin Dong produced a sharp dagger and tossed both the sausages and the blade onto the ground.

He simply wished to observe: In such dire straits, would starving people choose the knife, or the food? A glimpse into human nature...

At first, no one paid the blade any mind. Like rabid dogs, they lunged for the sausages.

Three or five of them, wild-eyed, tore open the packaging, stuffing sausage into their mouths while their hands kept grabbing for more.

"Get your hands off, damn you!"

"Please, don’t take it—just give me one!"

"Screw you! It’s mine!"

The warehouse descended into chaos—wailing, cursing, bodies pressed together in a frenzied scrum for food.

Lin Dong watched, arms folded, struck by how little separated humans from zombies.

One woman had nearly managed to eat a sausage, only for a man to wrench it from her mouth, kicking her aside.

Some even crawled on all fours, licking up the crumbs from the dirt.

There were fifty or sixty survivors, but only ten sausages—not nearly enough.

As a few gobbled up the last of the food, those on the outskirts grew desperate, yet powerless.

Then, one woman turned and noticed the sharp dagger lying quietly on the floor nearby.

She hesitated, drew a shaky breath, and the flash of cold steel reflected in her eyes, painting them crimson.

"Die—all of you!"