Chapter Seventy-Eight: I Love You

When everyone had finished speaking, the sensation of being watched by a monstrous horror abruptly vanished, leaving them somewhat relieved. Yet the terror they felt toward Cheng Hao was unavoidable, rooted deep within them. In times of peace, all were equal; when they first arrived, this place was merely a shelter. But as days passed, Cheng Hao had become a nightmare in their minds, one that could not be easily dispelled.

Once swaggering and domineering outside, tormenting women in the camp, they now resembled deflated balloons, not daring to show the slightest hint of aggression.

The young man whose clothes had been stripped by Fan Li forced himself to speak, lifting his head to address Cheng Hao. “Boss, that creature really isn’t afraid of bullets. I saw Liu Qiang shoot it, but it was unharmed—and then it chopped off Liu Qiang’s arm with a single blow…”

“So you were chased back like dogs?”

“No… we didn’t…” the young man instinctively denied.

Before he could finish, that chilling fear returned, making them feel as if Cheng Hao’s eyes were reddening.

No one dared speak further. They stood silently, like quails, watching as only three out of more than ten returned. They had seen their companions carried off by zombies—closing their eyes, they could still hear those desperate, agonized cries for help. Their spirits had already been battered.

Revenge?

Who would dare suggest it!

The enemy had proven immune to bullets. Even though the camp still had some firearms, the trauma lingered; none dared cross the tide of corpses to provoke the other side again.

“Are you hungry?” Cheng Hao asked.

“Huh?”

They were bracing for his wrath, but his voice suddenly lost its icy edge.

“If you’re hungry, go eat. Leave this matter; there’s plenty of food in the warehouse. Look at those starving souls outside. From today, the women will have three meals instead of one. You’re all too thin—eat more, eat more…”

“Has he gone mad?” The men exchanged glances, seeing the same confusion reflected in each other’s eyes.

They had noticed for some time that Cheng Hao’s mental state was deteriorating. Betrayals had made him suspicious and quick-tempered, and sometimes he spoke words that seemed completely unrelated to the situation at hand.

Just like now: one moment he was discussing lost weapons and the deaths of most of the exploration team, the next he was urging them to eat more. It was utterly baffling.

“Eat more… eat more…”

Whatever his condition, they were spared punishment and breathed a sigh of relief. As for his muttered words, they disregarded them—he had spoken incomprehensible things before.

“Boss… we’ll be going then…”

“Eat more… eat more…” The man sat in the chair, repeating himself.

Seeing no reaction, they quickly retreated, fleeing the room in panic.

As soon as they left, Cheng Hao suddenly raised his head. His eyes were now entirely red, and within his pupils, faint thread-like worms wriggled ceaselessly.

“Do not disturb me again…” Cheng Hao said to the person beside him.

“Yes, sir!” The attendant replied hastily.

Even after Cheng Hao had left, a low moan continued within the room, soft and languid like a cat’s tongue brushing against the ear, making one’s bones feel weak.

Outside, another man lingered, yearning to enter and indulge in the fragrant atmosphere within; yet, Cheng Hao’s intimidation held him back. He shook his head, suppressing his animal instincts, resolving to find someone else to vent with during his next shift.

The stadium had just been completed, its facilities still lacking. The vast room was empty, save for a single bed placed at its center, upon which lay a scantily clad woman.

Cheng Hao walked straight over. On the bed, the woman’s eyes bulged, her mouth slightly open, and her face twisted with terror. She was dead—her body had grown stiff, no longer soft.

Though she had been dead for some time, the seductive moaning still echoed throughout the room.

Cheng Hao seemed utterly oblivious to her lifeless form. He knelt beside the bed, his face filled with longing, and carefully lifted the covers.

Beneath lay a dark, writhing, vaguely humanoid creature—the body bore certain feminine features, but its facial features were grotesque. Its mouth occupied two-thirds of its face, gaping wide, from which alluring moans continuously issued.

Moreover, a strange fragrance emanated from its body.

It was unimaginable—the voice that nearly drove the men outside mad with lust emanated from the monster’s mouth.

Not only that, but the creature was covered with enormous, leech-like tendrils—its head, chest, and waist sprouted sticky, dripping appendages. The tendrils seemed able to move, swaying left and right as the blanket was lifted, reaching toward Cheng Hao like hands.

The scene was terrifying beyond human comprehension—even in dreams, ordinary minds would never conjure such horror.

Yet to Cheng Hao, the monster was a precious treasure. His eyes grew redder, the blood-hued worms in his pupils writhing faster, even bursting through the membrane to spill scarlet blood.

He seemed oblivious, as if pain meant nothing, gazing obsessively at the creature below.

Cheng Hao embraced it; the swaying tendrils wrapped around his back, gently stroking him like a beloved wife meeting her long-lost husband.

“Just a little longer…”

His voice was tender now, a stark contrast to the coldness he showed his subordinates.

If his followers saw him in this state, they would be struck dumb with astonishment—he was utterly unlike his usual self.

“They’re too thin.” The blood in his eyes clouded his vision; in his mind, he was holding an extraordinarily beautiful maiden, one who had captured him from the first moment they met.

He had promised to give her everything in the world—including himself, and everyone in the stadium.

The tendrils patted his back, as if to reassure him not to rush.

Relieved, Cheng Hao’s cheeks flushed with youthful shyness. Smiling, he said—

“I love you!”