Volume One: Mutation Chapter Thirty-Six: Punishment

Yang Meng refused to listen to any further explanations, ordering his men to start beating immediately. Why did everyone here fear him? Because he was ruthless enough to kill without hesitation, and he didn’t care if a few of them died; fewer mouths meant less burden, and he’d long grown tired of feeding this useless lot—what a waste of food.

Lao Liu and Scarface were beaten to the ground, rolling in agony. Yang Meng, sharp-eyed, caught a glimpse of a photograph tucked in Lao Liu’s chest. He halted his men, crouched down, and snatched the photo. Upon seeing the person in the picture, Yang Meng’s eyes practically glowed green with greed.

“Well now, no wonder you two were so eager to dispose of that Liu fellow’s corpse. So Old Liu had such a beautiful daughter, did he?” Yang Meng stared at the photo for a while, reluctant to tear his eyes away, then glared viciously at Scarface and Lao Liu, barking, “Search them thoroughly!”

The most ruthless of the thugs stepped forward, stripping the two men down to their underwear. Even the keys hidden in their clothes clattered to the ground.

Yang Meng bent to pick up the keys, glanced again at the photo, and, filled with rage, landed two fierce kicks on the men. He drew his pistol and pressed it against Scarface’s head, snarling, “Damn it, did you two go out looking for her? Where is she? Did you touch her?”

Seeing the murderous gleam in Yang Meng’s eyes, Scarface feared for his life and, ignoring his pain, hastily replied, “Boss, we didn’t touch her! By the time we got there, her home was empty—I swear it’s the truth, we’re not lying to you!” Lao Liu nodded vigorously in agreement.

Upon confirming they hadn’t laid a finger on the girl in the photo, Yang Meng finally breathed easier. He believed the two wouldn’t dare deceive him, for once he found the girl, the truth would be plain to see. If they did lie, he’d have them boiled alive. He snorted coldly and ordered, “Boys, bring these two along—we’re going out! If we really find that girl, Xiao Li is yours!”

Xiao Li was the factory’s beauty. Hearing this, the thugs could barely contain their eagerness to find the girl and return to claim their prize.

High above in the factory, Liu Cong and Liu Qingqing heard everything clearly. Upon learning her father was dead, Liu Qingqing broke down, covering her mouth and burying her sobs in Liu Cong’s arms.

Liu Cong gently patted her back, wiped away her tears, and spoke softly, “Let’s go. We’ll avenge your father. These scum must pay for their crimes.” Liu Qingqing’s beautiful eyes were red from crying, but her heart was filled with gratitude at Liu Cong’s promise of vengeance. She nodded firmly and, taking the initiative, grasped his hand.

Liu Cong’s father had been a police officer who’d also died at the hands of drug traffickers, and now the death of Liu Qingqing’s father reignited the rage within him. He was determined to punish these men who took lives as if they were nothing.

As Yang Meng rallied his men, arming them for protection, a clear yet cold voice sounded from behind him.

“King Yang, is it? No need to look. We’re right here.” No one had noticed when Liu Cong and Liu Qingqing had descended to the ground, standing side by side—a striking couple, as if made for each other.

Yang Meng narrowed his eyes, recognizing the woman as Liu’s daughter. The man beside her, however, was too handsome, his attire too refined and neat for the post-apocalyptic world, unlike anyone else there. Most unsettling of all, the man was calm—dangerously so. But Yang Meng reassured himself—he had a gun, what was there to fear?

“Well, well, you’ve come knocking on your own. Interesting. Scarface, didn’t you say you couldn’t find them? Who are these two, and why did you bring them here?” Yang Meng’s eyes flicked to Liu Cong, and, not forgetting his anger, he kicked Scarface and Lao Liu to the ground again.

Liu Cong had no patience for idle threats. Ignoring the armed men closing in, he went straight to the point: “Where is Liu Zheng? What did you do to him?”

With his men surrounding the pair, Yang Meng’s arrogance returned. “That Liu guy? Sent him to meet his maker long ago! What, you two want to join him?”

Confirming Liu Qingqing’s father was dead, Liu Cong sighed, squeezing her hand gently. “No, we don’t,” he replied.

Thinking Liu Cong was afraid to die, Yang Meng relaxed completely, bursting into laughter. “You think you get a choice? This isn’t your call. If you want to live, hand that girl over, and you can—” Before he could finish, an invisible force seized his throat, lifting him off the ground.

Yang Meng felt an immense pressure choking him. Unable to breathe, he struggled in vain, flailing his limbs helplessly in the air. The thugs, who moments before were eager to watch Liu Cong beg for mercy, were now stunned by the bizarre sight. None dared help their boss, mouths agape as they watched him writhe above them.

“Now do you know who decides what happens here?” Liu Cong’s tone was icy, devoid of emotion.

At that moment, everyone understood—the strange phenomenon was the work of this man. Fearful eyes turned to Liu Cong, terrified they might be next.

Yang Meng’s face turned purple as he clutched at his neck, trying desperately to signal he had something to say.

Liu Cong released his hold, and Yang Meng dropped heavily from over a meter in the air, gasping greedily for breath, oblivious to the pain. Once he recovered, he gave a secret signal to his men. One shouted, “Boss’s orders! Open fire!”

“Bang! Bang! Bang!—”

Yang Meng stood with his back to Liu Cong, massaging his bruised arm, already lamenting the death of Liu Qingqing as he heard his men fire more than twenty shots. When the gunfire ceased, he turned—and froze in terror.

Liu Cong’s gaze was cold as death as he surveyed the gunmen. Suspended in the air around him and Liu Qingqing were more than twenty bullets, motionless as if in a scene from a film. The thugs stared at the floating bullets, faces pale with disbelief.

“I only intended to punish you, to spare your lives. It seems you’re truly tired of living.” With a cold snort, Liu Cong unleashed a force that lifted Yang Meng and his men into the air, robbing them of breath.

Liu Qingqing, momentarily forgetting her grief, was witnessing this supernatural scene for the first time. When the shooting started, she had shut her eyes in terror, convinced she was about to die. Yet, in her final moments, it wasn’t her father whose face appeared in her mind, but this young man.

As the thugs began to suffocate, Liu Cong showed no sign of relenting. Anxious, Liu Qingqing tugged at his sleeve. “Stop! They’re dying! Killing them for this isn’t worth it!”

Liu Cong understood she still clung to her old beliefs, unable to adapt to this lawless world, and that she worried for the burden he’d carry if he killed. His gaze softened as he looked at the kind-hearted girl, and he released his grip.

The thugs crashed to the ground, all landing in the same awkward heap as their boss had before. They had finally experienced the torment he had endured, though none wished for a repeat. Yang Meng was utterly broken, the consecutive ordeals having crushed his spirit. He dared not utter a word, only gazing pleadingly at Liu Cong.

“Qingqing, these men are evil beyond forgiveness. They murdered your father and many others. They treat human life as nothing. Today, I can spare them, but they must still be punished. Is that alright?” His tone was gentle as he gazed into Liu Qingqing’s red-rimmed eyes.

Liu Qingqing knew she shouldn’t show mercy to her father’s murderers. She was deeply moved by Liu Cong’s concern for her feelings. No longer objecting, she ignored the thugs’ pleas for mercy and nodded resolutely.