ABFA Chapter 42

Jiang Yue knew that this time, there was no escape.

In a situation like this, she couldn’t even summon the desire to resist.

Completely unable to fight back, all the combat training she had done at the military academy instantly became a joke in front of the Zerg swarm.

No one could possibly take on the Zergs single-handedly while unarmed.

Song Yang curled the corners of his lips, his long, sharp limbs tapping the ground. “Don’t worry, I won’t lay a hand on you. Human bodies are far too fragile.”

A ghostly blue glow suddenly flickered across the black compound eyes.

Even though there was no sound, Jiang Yue knew exactly what he was saying—

[Weaving the Web]

The spiders on the ceiling crawled slowly across the massive web. Above Jiang Yue, a huge web was gradually taking shape on the ceiling, the white strands as thick as thumbs glinting under the crystal chandelier of the commercial building.

There was absolutely no chance to fight. In the face of overwhelming power, all those flashy combat moves were completely useless.

[Reeling In the Web]

Jiang Yue bolted.

But it was of no use.

Might as well lift her chest, raise her head, and let out a loud shout, at least that way she’d die with a bit of dignity.

The massive web came crashing down like the bejeweled armor on Zhu Bajie.

Jiang Yue was trapped within the web. The silk was terrifyingly sticky; all four of her limbs were glued to the strands, unable to move an inch.

As the dazzlingly colorful giant spider finished reeling in the web, Jiang Yue was hoisted high, suspended like the heroine caught in a trap in a period drama.

Standing below, Song Yang tilted his head slightly and looked at her, sneering: “See? Catching you didn’t require all this fuss. Some of my kind insist on going all out, as if you were some kind of extraordinary threat.”

He circled beneath the web, taking a moment to admire the humiliating sight of his prey caught.

“Hmm, time to reel it in.”

He snapped his fingers. “Finally, the tunnels dug by our burrowing worms can come in handy.”

This one-sided, overwhelming battle failed to pique Song Yang’s interest. He turned to leave, unaware that a thin red thread, so fine it was almost invisible to the naked eye, had slipped out from a gap in the web that bound Jiang Yue.

The limb Song Yang had raised suddenly froze.

Strange, he couldn’t move it at all.

The compound eyes in his sockets rotated in unison, and with a sharp click, his head twisted from his chest to face the source, eyes narrowing in confusion at the thin red thread that had suddenly appeared in the air.

“What is this?”

He extended his long, sharp limb, intending to cut through the red thread.

The Zerg limbs were as sharp as the finest human blades, but the moment his limb touched the red thread, the strange, eerie strand suddenly burrowed into it.

Swinging another limb, he struck the thread again, and this time the bizarre red strand split in two, plunging into that limb as well.

His two limbs froze midair. Though still part of his body, they now seemed to possess a will of their own, utterly ignoring his commands.

He muttered to himself, “How strange… I suppose there’s some reason the Zergs are so cautious.”

The web he had suspended in midair trembled slightly, and one by one, red threads burrowed out of it, shooting toward Song Yang at incredible speed.

He dodged frantically, but it didn’t take long for him to realize that even the lightning-fast reflexes of his kind were worthless against these threads.

What on earth was this thing?

Inside the web, Jiang Yue’s mouth and nose were sealed by the sticky strands. She couldn’t breathe, struggling in agony as her mind began to slip into a semi-shutdown from oxygen deprivation.

It seemed this time she was truly done for!

In her semi-conscious state, she felt something moving rapidly inside her body.

It was as if a fish that had been stranded on land had returned to the water. Although her mouth and nose were still blocked by the web and she couldn’t breathe, the suffocating feeling suddenly vanished.

Jiang Yue desperately drew in the oxygen that seemed to come from nowhere, and her brain began to function again.

When she opened her eyes, she discovered countless red threads sprouting from her body.

Extremely thin, seemingly fragile red threads, almost invisible to the naked eye, extended from her body, spreading throughout the fifth floor of the commercial building.

At first glance, it looked as if a faint red mist had settled over the entire area.

The web that had bound Jiang Yue was drained by the red threads, losing both its stickiness and sheen, drooping like withered straw.

She grabbed a strand of silk, swung through the air, and used the momentum to roll safely to the ground.

The red threads wove a secret, intricate web. Humans parasitized by the Zergs were trapped within it, unable to move, as countless threads wriggled through their flesh.

Their bodies visibly withered at an astonishing speed, reduced in the blink of an eye to nothing more than shriveled skin.

Song Yang knelt on the ground, his body like a piece of dehydrated human skin, with numerous red threads piercing his compound eyes and stretching toward Jiang Yue.

Jiang Yue grasped the red threads; they coiled gently around her wrists, remarkably obedient.

Looking at her, Song Yang whispered, “I’m getting more and more curious… Who exactly are you, that you can even get your hands on something capable of infecting brainwave frequencies?”

Still shaken, Jiang Yue swallowed hard and clutched the red threads in her hands tightly.

A withered, giant spider fell from the ceiling. Song Yang looked at it and sighed, “I was too arrogant… I really shouldn’t have underestimated you.”

One by one, more spiders, reduced to nothing but their exoskeletons, fell from the ceiling.

The balance of victory had begun to tip. Without a doubt, Jiang Yue, who had seemed weak. was the one emerging victorious.

The feeling of possessing power was intoxicating.

The red threads’ one-sided slaughter of the Zergs calmed Jiang Yue. Her gray eyes transformed into cold, vertical slits as she stared at Song Yang and said icily, “I really don’t understand… Your bodies are so strong, so why do you want mine?”

Song Yang chuckled. “Knowing these secrets comes at a high price. Out of some goodwill for the little rapport we have, I’ll give you a friendly warning.”

He fixed his gaze on the red eye that had suddenly appeared on his limb, a strange smile curling on his lips. “Make sure the military never learns your secret. Humans aren’t exactly a noble species.”

Jiang Yue’s eyes flickered. To extract more information, she replied, “Given the current situation, there’s no better option than telling the military. Falling into human hands is still slightly better than being captured by you.”

Song Yang smiled, “Then you’re gravely mistaken. If we capture you, you might still be able to keep your consciousness. If humans capture you, the mental consciousness called ‘Jiang Yue’ will be completely extinguished.”

“Oh, this thing is pretty powerful. I’ll have to save our chat for another time.”

Song Yang’s body dried up entirely; his head lolled limply to the ground.

Jiang Yue stepped forward and crushed his skull with a single kick.

The red threads began to retract, weaving and converging until they formed two red eyes swinging like pendulums from her wrists.

The sense of being “fed and satisfied” made the eyes extremely content.

Jiang Yue’s mind felt unusually exhausted. She looked over the chaotic fifth floor of the commercial building, unsure how she would explain everything to the police when they arrived.

At the very least, she had to put on a show. She removed the work uniform still covered in web, stepped over the dried-up corpses and pools of green acid, and returned to the boutique to retrieve her clothes from the display.

Jiang Yue didn’t know why she was still able to remain calm. She quickly put on her clothes, checked her appearance in the fitting mirror, grabbed a handful of makeup samples from the cosmetics section and stuffed them into her pocket, and took a paper bag. Once she confirmed everything was in order, she stepped into the safety passage.

She followed the passage to the stairwell on the first floor of the commercial building, next to which was the Omega restroom.

Her ears twitched as the sound of police sirens reached her from afar.

There was no time left.

She hurried into the Omega restroom, her mind spinning rapidly.

The building’s surveillance system had surely been destroyed by the Zergs, and she had no way of knowing if there were any survivors on the other floors.

If the entire building had been infested by the Zergs, she would have to come up with a plausible reason for her own survival.

The Omega restroom was empty. To ensure the safety of Omegas, all staff were required to leave before seven o’clock.

The Omega restroom provided special gland patches. Jiang Yue lifted the box and stuffed a handful of patches into her pocket.

Footsteps grew closer, police had already entered the Blue Whale Commercial Building. Her keen hearing had proven invaluable.

She took out her boutique bag and filled it with the restroom’s wet wipes, hand sanitizer, tissues, and mouthwash.

As she was pulling the roll of toilet paper out of its dispenser, the restroom door was kicked open.

A group of police officers stormed in, guns raised, shouting, “Come out! Hands up! Don’t move!”

Inside the restroom stall, Jiang Yue closed her eyes and slowly emerged, raising her hands.

She had done all she could. This was the extent of her ability, whether she could bluff her way through now was entirely up to fate.

At the police station, in the interrogation room, the officers pulled up Jiang Yue’s personal records. One of them raised an eyebrow: “A first-year student at the Federal Military Academy?”

Jiang Yue: “Yes.”

Police officer: “How long have you been working part-time at BFYHE?”

Jiang Yue: “I started working part-time while I was in school, and I’ve continued up until now.”

Police officer: “Were you the first to leave the boutique today?”

Jiang Yue nodded: “Yes.”

Police officer: “Are you usually the first to leave as well?”

Jiang Yue: “Not necessarily. Since I’m a part-time student, everyone is considerate and sometimes lets me leave early.”

The lie detector emitted an alarm.

The officer raised an eyebrow.

Jiang Yue closed her eyes and steadied her emotions. “The work is exhausting and chaotic, and some people take advantage of their seniority to steal my commission.”

The officer tapped the table with a capacitive pen. “Don’t answer with unrelated remarks. I’m only asking if you were the first to leave.”

Jiang Yue controlled her emotions. “Sometimes I leave early, sometimes later. It’s not fixed.”

Officer: “Were you the first to leave today?”

Jiang Yue maintained her composure. “Yes.”

Officer: “What time did you leave?”

Jiang Yue: “I didn’t pay attention.”

Police officer: “Give me an approximate time.”

Jiang Yue: “Maybe around ten past nine.”

Officer: “Did you leave immediately after your shift?”

Jiang Yue: “No, I had to tidy up the counter.”

Officer: “Then why were you in the first-floor Omega restroom until 9:35?”

Jiang Yue: “Because my finances are tight, I wanted to grab some gland patches and tissues from there.”

Her “crimes” were laid out on the table for the police to inspect.

A pile of branded makeup samples, a stack of gland patches, wet wipes, small bottles of mouthwash, and three partially used rolls of toilet paper she had pulled directly from the restroom dispenser.

The officer examining these items gave Jiang Yue a look of frustrated exasperation, as if silently saying, How could you be so reckless?

Well-versed and expressionless, he asked, “Before you left, did you notice any unusual behavior from your colleagues?”

Jiang Yue: “Unusual behavior, you mean?”

Police officer: “Making strange expressions or performing odd actions.”

Jiang Yue: “I didn’t notice anything abnormal.”

The lie detector remained silent.

The officer squinted. “Did you hear any strange noises in the Omega restroom?”

Jiang Yue nodded. “No, I didn’t.”

Officer: “Nothing at all?”

Jiang Yue had no idea what was happening on the other floors, making this question extremely dangerous for her.

She had only two seconds to think. Controlling her heartbeat and breathing, her mind raced at lightning speed.

After being parasitized, the Zergs shouldn’t make much noise. She was in the first-floor restroom, and the sounds of the fight on the fifth floor couldn’t have reached her ears.

Jiang Yue steeled herself and said, “No.”

The lie detector didn’t sound an alarm.

The officer lowered the capacitive pen in his hand, looked at Jiang Yue with a complex expression, and said softly, “You really are a lucky one.”

Jiang Yue feigned confusion and stared back at him.

The officer sighed. “There was a Zerg outbreak in the Blue Whale Building, and you’re the only survivor.”

 

 

 

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