Chapter 9: The Dance of Shadows

Nan Tingjian pressed onward until the faint aura of the Man-Eater Flower dwindled to nothing. He entered a dilapidated building, its walls half-collapsed and scattered with debris. Drag marks scarred the floor, evidence of recent struggle. He halted before a wardrobe: "Come out."

Silence reigned. After an agonizing pause, the door creaked open just enough to reveal Qian Hui's pale face. The boy glanced nervously over his shoulder, confirming no one followed, then edged the door wider. "You… won't kill me?" he whispered, voice trembling. One misstep earlier, and a flying brick would've crushed him. Thanks to Soft Vine's swift escape, he'd narrowly survived. That brick—no doubt thrown by Nan Tingjian—still haunted his thoughts.

Nan Tingjian stepped closer, crouching to study Qian Hui. No injuries, just fear. His answer defied logic: "Head north. The Low-Risk Zone has few humans or mutated creatures." Safe zones bred desperation, but Qian Hui's conspicuous appearance made discretion paramount. The Low-Risk Zone's barren resources paled against the dangers of the High-Risk Zones, yet it offered a fragile haven.

Before joining his four-member squad, Nan Tingjian had tried to shake Qian Hui off. The boy's persistence perplexed him. Killing him would've been simpler, but some reason—unknowable even to himself—had stayed his hand. Since survival required pragmatism, Qian Hui would remain… useful.

Qian Hui absorbed Nan Tingjian's words, pursing his lips in silence. He turned away, pretending ignorance, but his heart raced. "The Man-Eater Flower is nearby," Nan Tingjian had warned. "Your plants sense its aura. Even mutated plants fear it." The words conjured memories of the flower's rampage, its thorns piercing through swarms of zombies. But recent scars marred its once-imposing form—damage from sky-base raids and retaliatory strikes by both humans and zombies. Now weakened, it hid like a wounded beast.

Qian Hui's resolve hardened. "I won't leave," he muttered, gripping Soft Vine's tendril. "That flower is my friend." Even if Nan Tingjian forgot him, the bond with the Man-Eater Flower remained.

Inside the wardrobe, Qian Hui's thoughts spiraled. He'd overheard the squad's plans to lure the flower using a zombie head laced with its own scent. The gamble mirrored his own desperation—if the flower recognized the head, it would come. But would it trust the humans now?

Later, as the squad deployed ice barriers and lightning traps, Qian Hui observed from a distance. His plants—Soft Vine and Mini Pak-Choi—rested in his arms, while Chili nestled in his pocket, eyes wide with anxiety. The game's alerts buzzed: Mini Pak-Choi's Loyalty: 80%, Soft Vine's Loyalty: 80%. Both had reached critical thresholds, unlocking new commands through the Battle Prep System. He hesitated before activating it.

"Deploy Soft Vine to guard the northwest quadrant. Alert me if zombies approach," he commanded. The vine's leaves trembled with anticipation.

As night fell, the Man-Eater Flower emerged—a gargantuan shadow cloaked in moonlight. Its mangled stem crushed rubble underfoot as it lunged at the captive zombie, severing its limbs with a single bite. The squad's attacks—ice shards, lightning bolts—scattered like rain against its armored petals. Qian Hui watched, horrorstruck, as the flower thrashed against the ice wall, its wounds reopening.

Chili's whimpers cut through the chaos. "Go help it!" the plant urged, nearly bursting from Qian Hui's pocket. Soft Vine's tendrils tightened around his wrists, restraining him. "We can't," Qian Hui argued, voice shaking. "They'll kill us both."

But Chili's determination was relentless. With a desperate leap, it launched itself onto the crumbling rooftop, trailing smoke behind it. Qian Hui's heart sank. "No…!"

Nan Tingjian materialized beside him, grip tightening on Qian Hui's arm. "Stay back," he growled, his voice a blade.

The explosion came without warning—a seismic roar that shattered the ice barrier and sent debris flying. The Man-Eater Flower unleashed its fury, a concussive wave tearing through the squad. Qian Hui was hurled backward, barely dodging falling rubble. In the chaos, Soft Vine's vines flung him clear, anchoring him to a rusted lamppost.

Above, the flower's stem writhed, regeneration sparking across its wounds. It vanished into the forest, trailing bloodstains. The squad regrouped, injured but alive. Nan Tingjian stared at Qian Hui, his expression unreadable.

"You risked your life for it," he muttered, finally releasing his grip.

Qian Hui stood, brushing dirt from his clothes. Chili limped back, singed leaves hanging limply. "We have to find it," he insisted, voice steady despite the trembling in his hands. "It's still out there."

Nan Tingjian's gaze drifted to the forest's edge. "Then follow," he said quietly, turning away.