Chapter Sixty-Seven: An Odd Occurrence

Both Flower and Iron Pillar shared one crucial trait, which Ma Yi considered extremely important: wings. Originally, zombies that evolved to the Reverted Form had no wings. This was true for Ma Yi himself and the other zombies who had evolved through his blood. But Iron Pillar and Flower, after reaching the Reverted Form, would sprout a pair of black, membranous wings from the muscles on their backs when they transformed—unmistakably demonic.

With curved horns atop their heads, dark skin, muscular builds, wings unfurled, and a bladed tail behind them, they bore an uncanny resemblance to the legendary Satan. Ma Yi, by contrast, was more akin to the unique demons of the East: terrifying in appearance, capable of flight—though not yet of burrowing through the earth. Iron Pillar and Flower, however, were living images of the demons said to dwell in the heart of the earth in Western myths.

Had such beings truly existed in history? Just as archaeologists, upon discovering inexplicable artifacts, attributed them to faith and legend, so too might these myths have a basis in reality. Only when irrefutable evidence is found do people finally admit, “This was humanity in such-and-such an era, who did such-and-such things.” Why is it that nearly all mythologies include the legend of demons? Is this mere coincidence, inevitability, or an echo of lives that once walked the world?

It's not unlike the global discovery of dinosaurs: who could imagine that, over a hundred million years ago, gigantic beings lived and thrived on the very ground we tread? Then, disaster struck, and they vanished. Biologists surmise they shrank in size to adapt to environmental changes, becoming the small, docile livestock we now so easily slaughter and consume.

Flight has been humanity’s dream since ancient times, yet some creatures are born with this gift. Perhaps demons were the inventions of ancient human faith, but seeing Iron Pillar and Flower’s transformation, Ma Yi wondered if, at some mysterious point in the earth’s history, there truly existed such extraordinary beings. Their existence may have been all too brief—a mere flash in humanity’s collective memory, inspiring the mythologies that have endured to this day.

The snow was heavy—Ma Yi had never seen snow like this since he could remember. The whole land was shrouded in silver. With the snow came a strange sensation, as if the earth beneath his feet was trembling gently. This odd feeling had persisted since the snow began to fall.

Ma Yi recalled learning in school that snow was formed when water vapor condensed in cold air, but this snowfall had lasted three days without pause. Since the apocalypse, the weather had become bizarre; all life, animal and plant, seemed to have hit fast forward, evolving and changing at a pace beyond human comprehension.

After three days, the snow was piled a meter deep on the ground. Liu Xue was delighted, frolicking in the snow with Flower, but Ma Yi couldn’t shake the feeling that something was amiss, though he couldn’t pinpoint what.

The zombie legion had retreated into the warmth of their underground caverns, the snow slowing their movements. The cold only deepened, and still the snow did not cease. Sometimes it lessened, but it never stopped, as if all the water vapor in the world had gathered here. Ma Yi ventured outside to investigate; everywhere was blanketed in snow, the ground buried beneath a white expanse.

“Wow, brother-in-law, why is there black snow?” In the villa’s courtyard, all sorts of oddly shaped snow sculptures had been crafted by Liu Xue and Flower. Though clumsy, they were happy with their work. Outside the courtyard, the snow wall had reached over two meters. The snow was not fluffy, but packed solid—two meters thick. Ma Yi remembered that, at its deepest, the snow had reached the villa’s third floor. The next day, without melting, it compressed down to its current two-meter depth.

“Black snow?” Ma Yi looked at Liu Xue as she rushed into the house, covered in a layer of white snow dusted with a faint gray.

He stepped forward, gently brushing the black snow onto his fingertip for a closer look. His eyes narrowed; he rubbed it between his fingers, leaving a gray smudge.

“It’s ash,” Ma Yi said in surprise, making Liu Xue glance at him in confusion.

“What kind of ash?” Liu Wen also came over, peering closely at the gray smear on Ma Yi’s hand.

“It’s fire ash, the residue left after something burns.” Without another word, Ma Yi hurried out of the villa and looked up at the gloomy sky.

The snowfall continued, but now it was laced with black and gray particles. A faint layer of ash now covered the snow on the ground. Ma Yi scooped up a handful, examining the layers of fire ash. The gray flecks resembled plant ash, while the black grains seemed like the remnants of some special substance burnt to cinders. He pressed the ash to his nose—there was no odor.

“Did something happen?” Liu Wen, seeing Ma Yi’s agitation, walked over curiously.

“This is fire ash—something must be burning, yet with all this snow, I can’t imagine where. I’ll go investigate. Stay home, all of you.” Ma Yi pointed to the black-gray snow.

“Alright, be careful.” Liu Wen watched as Ma Yi leapt into the air and seemed to walk on air like an immortal. After consuming the spirit fragments, she herself had become a third-level evolver. With enough resources, their powers grew daily—all thanks to this powerful man.

Soaring over five hundred meters high, Ma Yi looked around; the landscape, once blinding white, now lay beneath a smoky shroud of ash. With his keen eyesight, he saw no sign of fire within a ten-mile radius. He flew swiftly in one direction, covering twenty more miles—still no sign of fire.

“What’s going on?” Ma Yi was baffled. Where could so much plant ash be coming from? He scoured a thirty-mile radius around the villa and found nothing. What kind of fire could produce so much ash, drifting over a hundred miles?

In fact, it wasn’t Ma Yi’s fault. This ash was the result of volcanic eruptions. The earth’s tectonic plates had shifted unimaginably; the Eurasian and Pacific plates, which should have been dormant, suddenly erupted into movement. The earlier earthquakes had been caused by the plates, once thought to be fading, instead growing at their junction. If Ma Yi had reached the East Sea, he would have seen rows of volcanoes rising from the ocean, spewing flames. Vast amounts of seawater, turned to vapor by the eruptions, filled the atmosphere.

That was the reason the snow would not stop. The Pacific’s water vapor, colliding with the Siberian winter winds, blanketed the eastern Eurasian continent in an unprecedented snowstorm. As the plates continued to rise, Ma Yi’s region in eastern China found itself at the very edge of this uplift. Unbeknownst to him, the altitude here was slowly increasing, though the change was so gradual it was barely perceptible.

On the other hand, the world’s former highest peak, at the junction of other plates, was steadily sinking. Creatures there suddenly found the land fracturing and collapsing; after millennia, the waters of the Indian Ocean returned, flooding the land and disrupting the ecosystem. The evolved raptors and beasts began migrating, fleeing the encroaching flood.

Something seemed off—Ma Yi had sensed it for days, but only after rising into the sky did he see that the land seemed to tilt. On the ground, there was no sense of slant; he had no idea that the villas were so expensive because, like skyscrapers, they were built with special balancing devices at their foundations, keeping them level even as the ground shifted.

Besides, living in the mountains, Ma Yi had never noticed the ground’s gradual incline. Inside the house, it was imperceptible. But now, from high above, he slowly realized something was very wrong.

Flying thirty miles west, Ma Yi landed and looked back toward the villa—what he saw startled him. From his vantage point, the land seemed to rise at a subtle angle towards the villa. He hadn’t left the villa in days, so he hadn’t noticed. If not for this outing, he would have continued to dismiss the tremors beneath his feet as a figment of his imagination.

But now, it was clear: it was not his imagination, but real, and something was happening that Ma Yi did not understand. Standing in the snow, gazing east, he fell silent. He resolved to travel east the next day, to see for himself why the ground had risen so much in that direction.

With this question weighing on his mind, Ma Yi returned to the villa. Upon his recounting of what he had seen, Liu Wen and Liu Xue were both astonished.

“I want to go too!” Liu Xue, eager to see what was happening, immediately raised her hand to volunteer.

“No. Tomorrow I’ll take Erha and Iron Pillar. The rest of you stay home.” After some thought, Ma Yi decided to bring his two strongest companions. Liu Xue was probably just bored and wanted to get out, but this was still the apocalypse. Despite Ma Yi’s formidable strength, there could always be someone—or something—stronger out there. It was safer for them to stay home, and that put his mind at ease.