Chapter Sixty: The Big One Is Coming

As Chen Zi’ang and Suzuna Tsukimiya worked in tandem, ruthlessly eliminating the mutated ghouls, the panic that had swept through the crowd gradually settled into a heavy, oppressive air of despair and deathly silence.

Most people were not blind; they understood that Chen Zi’ang was not attacking of his own accord, but only acted once someone had turned into a monster. Yet, the unknown danger was far more terrifying than the threat before their eyes—no one knew when this so-called “biological crisis” might suddenly erupt within themselves.

The thought of becoming a lump of terrifying, mindless, murderous flesh…

Everyone curled up in their seats, clutching their heads, trembling like lambs awaiting slaughter, some weeping in silence, others squeezing their eyes shut in prayer.

The only ones who managed to remain somewhat composed were the three university otakus traveling with Shinichiro Oishi. Though their eyes brimmed with tears and sweat beaded their brows, they still clung to their phones, frantically tapping at the screens, as if trying to accomplish something.

Perhaps they were writing their last goodbyes.

Witnessing the misery inside the bus, Chen Zi’ang longed to help but was powerless, forced to continue playing the role of a coldhearted executioner.

Though his expression was stern, his knuckles whitened on the sword’s hilt, and Suzuna Tsukimiya couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

She had seen far too many human tragedies to be moved by a scene where only a few people died. Besides, the more uncontrollable the situation became, the more it would force the upper bureaucrats to recognize the enormity of the mysterious threat—leading to greater funding for the Sixth Countermeasure Division… which would benefit both her and her senior.

But seeing the look on his face, her heart softened, and she finally couldn’t help but speak up:

“If anyone feels itchy, whatever you do, don’t scratch! If you break the skin, the virus could erupt!”

The crowd, lost and desperate, quickly seized on her words in a surge of survival instinct:

Indeed, the earlier victims had all accidentally torn their skin before transforming into monsters.

Everyone immediately curled up tighter, not daring to move, terrified that the slightest touch or bump might cause a fatal wound.

With everyone now mindful to avoid injury, no one else turned into a ghoul for the time being.

Chen Zi’ang breathed a silent sigh of relief and gave Suzuna Tsukimiya a grateful look.

Suzuna, smug at heart, leaned over and whispered comfortingly:

“Senior, this all happened so suddenly, there’s only so much anyone can do. We’ve managed to save these people—you’ve already done your best.”

“Mhm.” Her words rang true, and Chen Zi’ang felt a little better. He added, “But don’t relax just yet. Stay vigilant for anything unexpected at the end.”

Suzuna nodded obediently, though inwardly she thought:

It’s just a Cannibal Cult ritual, after all. Unless Miho Nishikawa herself appears to cast the spell, there’s nothing I could do to save the rest of these people… but it would be even more worthwhile for me to simply kill her outright.

Of course, if I were Miho Nishikawa, I certainly wouldn’t show up anywhere in Northmost City right now. With so many ghoul infection sources emerging all over, the Public Security Bureau must be overwhelmed—if Nishikawa dared show her face, they’d do anything to take her down immediately.

Her gaze drifted out the window, to the pedestrians and cars passing by, oblivious to the chaos unfolding.

Night was falling, and the mysterious was spreading quietly. Who knew how many lives would be lost this time?

But I don’t care… as long as Senior is safe.

The bus finally arrived at the Northmost City Public Security Bureau—not to find members of the Sixth Countermeasure Division waiting, but a fully armed military unit.

In fact, not all mysterious outbreaks were handled by security officers; the military maintained their own “Special Response Task Force” to deal with completely uncontrollable incidents.

Its members were all elite soldiers, skilled in marksmanship, reconnaissance, stealth, and vehicle operation—but most crucially, they never asked, “What exactly are we fighting?”

The team leader was a man named Jiang Ting, a stocky officer of the Lu ethnic group with a closely cropped head.

He ordered his troops to surround the bus and quickly dragged all the passengers off.

The soldiers, braced for battle, seemed ready to shoot anyone who so much as twitched.

“All right, we’ll take it from here,” Jiang Ting nodded at Chen Zi’ang. “You’re free to go.”

Chen Zi’ang hesitated for a moment, then said:

“Be careful—not too rough. If anyone gets injured, they might mutate…”

He only meant to warn Jiang Ting to treat the survivors gently, but Jiang quickly made a halting gesture:

“Enough! That’s not for us to know. Orders are orders—we do as we’re told.”

“You’d better get going. Our boss is here too, probably meeting with your superiors right now.”

The military bigwigs were here too? Chen Zi’ang nodded gravely, then turned to Suzuna Tsukimiya, and the two quickly left the parking lot.

As soon as they entered the office building, Section Chief Kousuke Takahashi’s call came through:

“Where are you?”

“We’ve arrived.”

“Come to the fourth floor conference room. Meeting’s about to start.”

With that, the call ended.

Chen Zi’ang had just pocketed his phone when a message popped up from Deputy Section Chief Ken Saki:

When you arrive, speak as little as possible.

That simple phrase, “speak as little as possible,” sent a ripple of warning through Chen Zi’ang’s seasoned instincts—years of experience in society and the workplace had taught him to sense lurking danger.

He entered the elevator with Suzuna Tsukimiya. As the doors closed, she suddenly spoke:

“Senior, if I were Miho Nishikawa and wanted to take revenge on Northmost City, I wouldn’t need to kill anyone at all.”

“All it would take is to spark outbreaks at multiple points in the city, creating a wave of mutations, and keep the Public Security scrambling. As more people catch on, the crisis would spiral out of control on its own.”

Chen Zi’ang understood her perfectly.

If not for human manipulation, the frequency of outbreaks in Northmost City was low—just once or twice a week. So, even with the limited staffing of the Sixth Countermeasure Division, they could handle things well. After every mission, there was even time for compensatory rest.

But when did things start going so terribly wrong?

It began when Miho Nishikawa released a divine relic in the Sky Ginza.

The majority of outbreaks had nothing to do with such catastrophic objects—take Miss Kikuchi, for example, whom they’d recently visited. The source of contamination there was merely a diary recording mystical knowledge. If left alone, she’d have sensed something was wrong after a few days, and whether she moved out, sought help, or went to the hospital, the severity would have risen gradually. The Sixth Division would have had ample time to detect, identify, and intervene.

But dealing with a clever witch was an entirely different challenge.

The Sixth Countermeasure Division was an arm of the state, and bureaucracy was slow to react. Now, with the enemy exploiting this weakness, the Public Security Bureau seemed to be buckling under the pressure.

“If that’s the case…” Chen Zi’ang murmured, realization dawning, “could this mean changes are coming?”