Let's switch to God Mode and sort out the types of monsters. So far, we've seen four totally different kinds.
First up, we've got non-human creatures mutated by the black mist. No need to break these down further—they all count as one type.
Next, we've got regular people corrupted by the black mist. Like Jack Young said: folks with weak bodies or shaky wills are the first to get hit. The one dissected by Cobra was this kind—basically still human-shaped, a bit stronger than normal, but not by much. They all share one thing: they never speak. No matter what, they just won’t open their mouths.
Then there are regular folks who actively absorb and sync up with the black mist. You know, the ones with "big boobs," "pointy chins," and "snake waists." Their bodies get all kinds of weird, and their weak spots mutate too (like, a pointy chin could survive a snapped neck). These types do talk, but only in super simple sentences, and they keep repeating the same keyword. That keyword is the key to their resonance with the mist.
Last up, we’ve got the Chosen Ones who actively absorb and use the power of the black mist. Take Jasper Xiao for example—his body doesn’t change much, but his boundary mark gets all freaky. Their language and thinking stay sharp, so they seem pretty normal. But when it comes to threatening survivors, they—no, let’s call them “it”—these things might be scarier than the other three types of monsters.
On Yanggao South Road at the Bund, hundreds of people were stumbling south, scared and nervous. Jasper Xiao was leading the way, warhammer in hand, eyes blazing with fury. As he headed south, he gathered up fleeing citizens and ran into a few situations that drove him absolutely nuts.
The apocalypse had arrived. As the colorless flames scorched the city’s surface, it burned away lots of other things too. Pretty much every ugly side of humanity you can imagine was on display. At first, Jasper Xiao tried to hold back, but eventually he stopped showing mercy. Just a moment ago, he’d smashed a Chosen One who got their kicks from killing people into pulp with his hammer, then roasted them into jerky with holy light.
Yep, turns out these Chosen Ones who tap into the black mist all have a serious murder streak.
He glanced back at Jack Young, who had his eyes shut and was completely tuned out. Jasper couldn’t help but sigh: "Lucky you, off leveling up while ignoring the world. Meanwhile, I’m stuck running around like a sucker."
Still, when it comes to getting things done, Jasper Xiao’s got it covered. He might just be a figurehead, but a colonel’s a colonel—and he’s a real soldier, not just some regular guy. With the long road ahead, he came up with all sorts of plans: transportation, stamina, safety, food, watch shifts, even mental health support. He assigned people for every job.
In the thick black mist, a group of about thirty survivors was on the run. Most of them were young and strong men and women, and among them were three familiar faces: Luo Shiren, Lei Zhen, and Lei Zhen’s daughter.
Lei Zhen, carrying his daughter near the front, naturally took on the role of strong leader. In this danger zone, something inside this burly guy just clicked. Gone was his old defeated look—his big eyes were practically on fire. He grabbed the reins and started barking orders, like a sergeant leading a battle.
But that didn’t mean everyone listened. Modern folks have stubborn streaks baked into their souls—takes more than a crisis to iron that out.
“That last spot was perfect, not a whiff of black mist! Why’d we leave?” a blond kid grumbled loud enough for everyone to hear, then turned to his girlfriend, worried: “You okay? Feeling sick?” She just shook her head, looking wiped. The kid yelled up to Lei Zhen: “Hey, can we stop and rest? We’ve been running forever—where are we even going?”
Lei Zhen didn’t answer, but suddenly raised a hand and stopped. He stared ahead, then handed his daughter to a woman in the group for safekeeping. The little girl clung to his sleeve, worried and anxious: “What’s wrong? Is… is there a monster?”
“Don’t worry, Daddy’s here.” Lei Zhen patted his daughter’s head and gave her a reassuring smile. Then he whipped out two short meat cleavers from his belt and stared ahead, voice deep: “On guard!”
Everyone tensed up right away. Through the black mist, they could see the entrance to an underground parking lot up ahead. Weird noises echoed in the fog—someone was talking, maybe? The next second, a figure appeared, climbing up the ramp bit by bit. First came a giant, fluffy head, then a pair of hands raised high… and then—a whole bunch of hands!
Everyone froze, eyes wide and speechless—they’d never run into a second type of mutant human before.
The thing in front of them was at least three meters tall, thin as a pole, but covered in tons of hands! Like one of those wooden dummies for martial arts practice, twenty or thirty hands stuck out from everywhere like branches. Its head was huge, making the whole thing look like a weird lollipop.
Those hands waved wildly in the air, but somehow followed a pattern. The highest 'right hand' held a short stick—looked like a conductor’s baton. And with that big dandelion head, if Jack Young were here, he’d know exactly who this was.