As they walked, the stench grew so thick that several people started gagging. The foul, corpse-like odor was so strong that anyone who'd never smelled something like it before couldn't help but throw up on the spot.
Of course, people like Jing Shu, who'd survived through a year of that super stinky rotten-egg disaster in her previous life, were long past being fazed. She kept a straight face, calmly took a protective mask from her pocket, and put it on. Then she handed out a few extras to the pharmacists from Wu City's Medicinal Herb Association beside her. The last thing she wanted was everyone fainting before the competition even started.
When they finally reached the site, the scene was far worse than Jing Shu had imagined. From a distance, cries of agony echoed through the air.
The abandoned stadium was massive. The center had been divided into rows upon rows of makeshift beds, each one packed with people. It stretched so far she couldn't even see the end.
How many people were there?
The first batch they'd seen earlier had at least been able to scream and curse, but most of the people here could barely move. They lay on the ground, groaning weakly, and only a few let out the occasional sharp scream of pain.
These were all people parasitized by bugs.
By now, anyone from the Medicinal Herb Association who still didn't realize what this third round of the competition was about would have to be brain-dead. It wasn't hard to guess.
But with their current means, all they could really do was intervene—the medicines weren't doing much. Doctors weaved constantly between the infected, doing what they could.
The sound of medical monitors beeped endlessly through the hall. Emergency calls broke out twice in just a few minutes. The tension was thick enough to choke on; no one knew when someone might die from organ failure or some other sudden collapse.
After so many years in the apocalypse, most deaths had been quick—instant, even. You either dropped dead right away, or people found your corpse after. It was rare to see suffering stretched out like this, with people screaming and dying piece by piece.
Jing Shu narrowed her eyes. Memories from her past life flickered through her mind: all those times she'd trembled in the face of disaster, praying it would end soon, praying she could live on. Her parents were still alive back then, and she didn't dare die. She'd wanted to become strong, but fate hadn't allowed it. Other than quietly following behind China's corrupt government, there'd been no lifeline left for people like her.
They'd been just like these people now—struggling, desperate, clinging to life because there was still family, still unfinished wishes. Those who lost the will to live had already gone, freed early from the torment.
She exhaled softly. For the first time, she truly felt that her decision in this life had been right—meeting the Spirit Spring early and cultivating those countless Bodhi trees had changed everything.
But the chief judge didn't stop walking.
What, were they wrong about the test?
"Isn't it here?" someone asked.
"No, we need to go further back."
"Back there?"
"This area's only one part of the parasite patients. Behind it, there's another section—it's the children's zone."
The group finally understood.
A lot of kids had been infected too, so they'd been placed in a separate area. But the atmosphere there was eerie. The children lay quietly on the ground, looking like they were asleep. Unlike the adults, there were no cries, no moans.
If not for the occasional doctor checking vitals and the faint beeping of ECG monitors, people might've thought these kids were already… gone.
What was happening here?
The chief judge finally stopped. "These children are China's future. Use whatever means you have—start with them. Save as many as you can."
Another judge added, "Normally, we'd follow procedures—trial runs, record checks, and all that—but medicine's short, and time's tighter. We can't afford to drag this out. Kids aren't like adults. Even with Bodhi and rare anesthetics keeping them alive, they won't last much longer. We'll go straight to treatment."
Minister Zhao wiped the moisture from the corner of his eyes. "This third round's simple. Our new drug formulas will be published as reference data for everyone. From here on, you can use any means necessary—even crimson energy sources you've obtained from other channels. What we're testing this time is your ability to suppress the parasites. The higher the suppression rate, the better your score."
Charts and data flashed on the screen—pharmaceutical compositions, ratios, test results. The current highest suppression rate stood at eighty-six percent. With the R&D Epidemic Prevention Department's data and the rare materials gathered in recent days, most associations seemed confident.
The chief judge glanced at Jing Shu again, visibly emotional. Lao Zhao had claimed her formula could reach ninety-nine percent suppression. He didn't think Lao Zhao was lying, but he couldn't help feeling nervous anyway.
"All right then, the third round starts now. Do your best. The final result depends on your suppression rate."
"Grandpa! Grandpa! I'm here!"
A thin, clear voice broke through the noise. A pair of dark eyes stared in their direction—sharp, aware, far too knowing for a child. The small head tilted slightly, as if seeing right through everything.
"Er Qiu, what're you doing awake?" The chief judge hurried forward, glancing anxiously at the doctor.
The little boy wiped the sweat off his forehead and shook his head weakly. "Grandpa, I refused the anesthesia. I'm scared that if I go under, I won't ever wake up again… that I'll never see this beautiful world anymore."
Even the battle-hardened old veteran, Boss Zhang, couldn't hold back his tears. His grandson…
"You're lying, Grandpa," a skinny boy beside the bed suddenly shouted. "He said he wanted to save the medicine for the other kids. He said he could handle the pain."
Boss Zhang nodded slightly, then shot the boy a sharp look. "And you? Why are you awake too?"
"It's my fault Er Qiu's like this! If I hadn't given him that red nematode to eat back then, he wouldn't be infected! If he's not taking medicine, then neither am I!"
"Good boys, both of you!" Boss Zhang lowered his head, quietly brushing away the wetness at the corner of his eye.
That was when Jing Shu arrived with the Wu City pharmacists. Minister Zhao brightened and introduced them quickly. "Xiao Jing, let me introduce you. This little one's Boss Zhang's grandson, nickname Er Qiu. The boy beside him is his friend, Tie Dan."
Jing Shu crouched down with a gentle smile. Seeing the boy's pale face and the sweat streaming down it from enduring the pain, she couldn't help stroking his head. He was only ten, yet already so strong and sensible that it broke her heart. "So your name's Er Qiu, huh? I'm Jing Shu. I know a kid called Niu Yaben who's just as smart as you. When you're better, I'll introduce you two, all right? Oh, and you too, Tie Dan. You can all play together."
Er Qiu's cracked lips curved into a faint smile. "If that day ever comes, I'll be really happy."
That was when Wang Danai pulled out her secret batch of black pills.