Chapter 9: The Endgame

The clamor in his ears gradually faded away.

Mu Yu, gasping for breath, staggered forward in a desperate run.

He was like a wild boar fleeing for its life, or a startled little snake, escaping from the beast at its heels.

Yet he was running toward the beast.

Though he had spent recent years free of illness, never once visiting a hospital, Mu Yu found the shadowy corridor before him strangely familiar.

It felt as if not long ago, he had traversed this same path, ceaselessly moving forward.

But now, Mu Yu could not afford to think. He knew he was no hero, no selfless martyr—just an ordinary man, always scheming to survive, always looking for an escape.

So he dared not let his thoughts wander. He feared that if he stopped, terror would root him to the spot, and if he let himself imagine how this might end, he would break down and weep.

That would be too disgraceful.

Perhaps this was his last chance, in this life, to act with any semblance of valor. At least this once, he wanted to present himself as a hero.

None of this was difficult to deduce. Once all the clues were strung together, the thread leading through them pointed directly to the answer.

In this incident, Fengzhou was the most unique locale.

Monsters had begun to appear here earlier than anywhere else.

And within Fengzhou, he was the anomaly.

Because he was the only patient among them all to awaken.

Yet the chief difference between himself and the other patients was not merely the duration of his consciousness.

It was that... he alone bore no sign of the monster.

Mu Yu realized, upon seeing the photographs at the bedside, that Mo Yan had noticed this as well.

He ought to have been sent straight to Room 1929, but perhaps—like the man next door—he displayed such severe symptoms that he was reassigned, or for some other reason.

Though he had no idea what had happened before he woke, Mu Yu understood that Mo Yan was retracing his steps, revisiting every place Mu Yu had lingered or passed through.

Not only the original ward, but also the ambulance that brought him to the hospital.

He was searching... for another Mu Yu.

Of course, there might be another solution.

That was to kill Mu Yu.

Mo Yan thought Mu Yu hadn’t noticed, but in truth, during those low, murmured conversations, even the faintest whispers reached Mu Yu’s attentive ears.

One ward. Two patients. One monster.

Mu Yu gazed at the wound slashed deeply into the vacant, frozen face on the hospital bed and suddenly understood another way to kill the monster.

That was to kill the patient.

Both he and Mo Yan had thought of this, yet neither spoke of it aloud.

Mu Yu clenched the grip of his gun, hands slick with sweat.

The corridor was not long. He stumbled through the hospital’s rear door, thankful for the building’s internal systems—otherwise, he’d have been left pounding helplessly on reinforced glass.

The parking lot wasn’t large, nor was its security strict. The tiny guard booth stood open and empty, its occupant long since evacuated.

Mu Yu’s pace slowed involuntarily as he drew a long breath.

At first, he’d envisioned himself beset by swarms of monsters, hacking his way through in a bloody last stand, dying heroically in the parking lot after overcoming a gauntlet of perils.

A proper blockbuster, full of hardboiled bravado.

But in reality, his way was almost too smooth—no monsters, no obstacles. The ease of it made him uneasy.

He peered into the lot, but, hemmed in by landscaping, could see only the red beacons atop the ambulances.

Reckless as it was, he had no choice but to forge ahead; time was running out. He lacked Mo Yan’s precise sense of timing, but guessed that most of the allotted thirty minutes had already slipped by.

He could only move forward. If he hesitated, all his effort—Mo Yan’s effort, and the sacrifice of the mutilated head in the ward—would come to nothing.

He might as well just turn the gun on himself.

Mu Yu shook his head, banishing the thought, and stooped to slip beneath the railing.

The parking spaces were laid out in neat, 3.5-meter rows; the hospital director must have been a stickler for order, setting the lot up to regulation, even though it served only the staff.

This orderliness made things easier for Mu Yu. Even now, the ambulances were parked in perfect formation, drivers lining them up from the innermost spaces outward.

He eyed the vehicles—so reassuring in normal times, but now as menacing as wild beasts. Who could say if a monster might not leap at him from a rear door as he passed?

Knowing he could not hesitate, Mu Yu strode toward the nearest ambulance, heart pounding in his chest.

He gripped the handle of the rear door with both hands and yanked.

Nothing. The door didn’t budge. His face went deathly pale.

With all his courage spent, ready for a desperate gamble, he’d forgotten this: he didn’t know how to open the ambulance.

Who would know how to open an ambulance door, anyway, without a key?

He stood there, helpless, feeling utterly foolish.

An ambulance is a vehicle like any other—without the key, you’re not opening anything.

Mo Yan, perhaps, had some experience with locks, but in his current state, he’d be lucky to make it to the lot at all.

And time was vanishing fast.

He would have to rely on himself.

Gun in hand, Mu Yu circled the ambulance, searching for a way in. Unless he had a chainsaw or welding torch, all he could do was make a tiny hole with the weapon—he’d be lucky to even see inside, never mind get in.

He struck the dark glass with all his might; pain brought tears to his eyes, but the glass didn’t so much as tremble.

These ambulances were the pride of Fengzhou Hospital—rare, top-quality models, with one-way privacy glass and reinforced panels. The director often boasted of them.

Now, they were Mu Yu’s bane.

He shook his swollen fist, forcing a wry smile.

“Can you just... not let me down when I’m trying to do something important?”

So many had died, so much had happened—if it all ended in anticlimax, not even death could bring peace.

Clumsily, he fiddled with his gun, recalling what he’d gleaned from movies and managed to release the magazine. Luckily, the madmen at the research institute hadn’t altered the basic design, or he’d be at a loss.

Only five rounds. This was, after all, an investigation—Mo Yan hadn’t expected a firefight and brought only a handful of magazines.

It wasn’t enough. The parking lot held a dozen ambulances.

“My life’s on the line, and you’re telling me to trust to luck?”

Mu Yu’s vision darkened.

He wasn’t particularly lucky—no better than anyone else, really.

To pick out, with four bullets (he’d need to save one for the monster), the very ambulance he’d once ridden in would be like passing a major exam on pure luck alone.

“Calm down. Maybe, just this once, I’ll get lucky.”

He tried to reassure himself, vengefully sacrificing the romantic prospects of a certain unconscious man in the elevator.

Let me hit the mark!

Mu Yu pursed his lips, aimed at the glass, and squeezed the trigger.

The thunderous report left his ears ringing, but he didn’t care—he stared at the window.

Nothing.

True to the institute’s reputation, the gun’s power exceeded his expectations, shattering the glass and leaving a head-sized hole.

But the interior was empty.

Mu Yu’s hands slipped on the gun’s grip, sweat soaking his back and gluing his shirt to his skin.

“No...”

He eyed the next ambulance. He had only three bullets left—too few to keep guessing.

Fengzhou People’s Hospital was not far from his neighborhood—just four residential blocks in between.

If there were a few more blocks, the next hospital’s ambulances would have arrived sooner.

If the ambulances left at the same time, his should be somewhere in the middle... but that couldn’t be, since ambulances would have picked up more than one patient.

Wait.

A sudden realization struck him. Mo Yan had called these monsters “contaminators.” Even if the hospital was ignorant, the authorities would react quickly; they wouldn’t allow ambulances that had transported patients like him to be sent out again.

No one knew how this infection spread, so, despite the hospital being overrun, so many ambulances remained parked and idle!

Enough. He’d have to take a chance.

Mu Yu strode past the first six ambulances. It was a guess—the driver might have been delayed by traffic, or some neighborhoods had multiple patients—but it was better than blind luck.

I bet I’m right.

He gritted his teeth, raised his gun, and fired at the glass.

The shot rang out; Mu Yu peered inside, then moved to the next vehicle.

Still nothing.

But there was no more time for hesitation. At any moment, something like a ballistic missile could fall from the sky and annihilate everything.

He didn’t know why, but he felt a prickling certainty: the authorities would not hesitate to drop bombs—cornered, they would act with desperate violence.

And indeed, this was desperation. Such a massive, unprecedented wave of death—no one at headquarters truly believed that destroying a single hospital, even one that had erupted half an hour early, would stop the disaster. But they had to try.

If it succeeded, all would celebrate. If not, but a few areas were cleansed, then every related hospital would be handled the same way.

There was no guilt. The moment Mo Yan and his team entered, they were prepared for this.

No one objected. If it happened at headquarters, the response would be the same—their own lives sacrificed without hesitation.

The world behind the scenes was never the stuff of stirring tales, but blood and cruelty. Everyone who entered knew they would have to stand their ground.

There is no peace and prosperity; only that others bear the burden in silence.

Another gunshot.

Without hesitation, Mu Yu moved on.

One bullet left.

He drew a shaky breath, gun trembling in his grasp.

Bang!

The echoing blast ripped through the parking lot.

Mu Yu staggered back, face drained of color.

Nothing.

Still nothing.

The lot was empty as ever.

For a moment, Mu Yu wondered if Mo Yan had been mistaken, or if his own luck had simply run out.

He paused.

Then he marched to the next ambulance and fired again.

With no sign of the monster, the bullet left no mark of consequence.

Mo Yan stared intently at the hole in the window.

Through the shattered glass, a slack, familiar face appeared, meeting his gaze.

“Die!”

Mu Yu hurled himself forward.