Chapter 11: Full Father

The room fell silent, leaving only the sound of the news broadcast from the television.

“‘Master of Worms’ is a term used by ignorant fools. For us, blood kin on the path of evolution, the correct title is Full Father—the omniscient, omnipotent, supreme authority of Full Father.”

The man finished speaking and raised his hand to his temple—the stone had shattered his temple, and from the massive wound oozed not blood, but pale, viscous cavity fluid.

Blood kin on the path of evolution? Could this mean the Infected by the Master of Worms?

Are there so many such people that they can form secret societies and engage in religious superstition?

Li Cheng’s mind raced as he growled, “Full Father? It’s the twenty-first century—how can there still be such feudal, patriarchal titles? It makes me tremble with rage, drenched in cold sweat despite the heat, tears streaming helplessly down my face. This society is saturated with oppression against the Infected—when will they ever truly rise up?”

???

The black-clad man’s sudden outburst froze the atmosphere in the living room.

“You have not yet liberated your mind—you cannot hear the call within your blood.”

The man rose slowly; the chair scraped backward, its legs squeaking against the floor. “It doesn’t matter. You simply need a little help.”

The instant he uttered the word “help,” the man flung open his jaws and lunged forward, while his left arm suddenly elongated like a whip, sweeping sideways.

Li Cheng did not dodge or retreat—he stomped the ground with his left foot, closed the distance, and drove his right fist forward like a cannonball into the man’s chest.

Crack—crack—crack—

The sound of snapping ribs came rapid as popping beans. Li Cheng turned his fist into a palm, thrusting upward diagonally, his hand clamping the man’s throat, his thumb locking under the jaw, then slamming the man’s head hard against the edge of the wooden dining table.

Thud!

The man’s mandible shattered, teeth flying, the masseter muscles severing instantly, leaving his lower jaw dislocated and hanging limp.

Not stopping there, Li Cheng’s left arm suddenly erupted with a mantis-arm bone blade, rising from below like a fisherman hauling moonlight from the sea, slicing toward the woman’s serpent-like, elongated neck.

The bone blade was razor-sharp; even as the woman twisted away, it carved a long gash across her neck, spraying thick cavity fluid.

The coiled length of her neck loosened, and the brother and sister, who had been strangled nearly to death, gasped for air, finally freed from suffocation.

Li Cheng moved swiftly, grabbing both children by their necks, yanking them out and tossing them toward their parents’ bedroom, then whispering, “Close the door.”

Those words echoed like thunder in Xiao An’s mind. Ignoring his aching body, he scrambled to his feet, half-crawling, half-colliding as he slammed the door shut, locked it, then dragged his sister under the bed.

Seeing the “hostages” escape, the woman shrieked, stretched her neck, and hurled her head like a battering ram at Li Cheng.

Thwack!

Li Cheng seized her hair, twisted it once, and yanked her head back hard into the table.

The battered wooden table could no longer bear the strain—both front legs snapped on the spot.

As the tabletop tilted, every porcelain plate and bowl crashed to the floor, shattering into a thousand pieces.

Shhh—

The man’s right arm, lying limp on the floor, suddenly snapped upward and stabbed toward Li Cheng.

As another Infected by the Master of Worms, his vitality was unnaturally resilient—even with his jaw shattered, he retained full combat capability.

Li Cheng instantly released his grip with his right hand and stepped back half a pace to evade.

The freed man immediately regained his stance, mirroring the same move—he elongated his left leg, whipped it out, hooked Li Cheng’s right ankle, then yanked hard, hurling him toward the right wall of the living room.

His spine slammed into the wall, pain jolting straight into his brain. Adrenaline surged automatically—his breathing quickened, his heartbeat and blood flow accelerated, his pupils dilated involuntarily.

Just like that night his throat had been slit, the near-death experience did not plunge Li Cheng into panic—it was as if a switch had been flipped.

His mind was utterly calm, coldly gathering information, assessing the situation, planning strategies, calculating feasibility.

In some unseen way, he gained insight.

Everyone has strengths: some are born to swim or play ball, some to read expressions, some to compose music.

Li Cheng’s talent might be his ability to remain calm and clear-headed even under such conditions.

His center of gravity shifted forward, his thighs bent, his tendons compressed—the mantis-arm bone blade coiled, ready to strike.

Li Cheng kicked off the wall and lunged like a tiger descending the mountain, slashing toward the man’s neck.

The man frantically tilted his head back and raised his arm to block. But under the force of weight multiplied by speed, the bone blade cleaved through effortlessly, severing his entire left arm along with the shoulder blade.

In the moment of life and death, the man unleashed all his strength—his left leg stretched like a serpent, swung wide, and hurled Li Cheng far away, toward the balcony.

The sensation of weightlessness returned. Li Cheng instantly shifted tactics, driving his right-arm bone blade into the sofa, slicing through the foam to slow his momentum slightly.

Simultaneously, his left palm slammed the floor, using the recoil to flip upright like a leaping carp. Then, with a single slash of his right-arm bone blade, he severed the bindings on his injured leg.

Unimpeded, Li Cheng surged forward, accelerating into a knee strike that smashed into the man’s chest, driving him deep into the wall and shaking the landscape painting from its hook.

The man’s lower jaw had fully detached; his eyes widened to their limits, and with his remaining right arm, he clamped tightly around Li Cheng’s neck and right hand, squeezing with all his might.

Li Cheng’s eyes involuntarily filled with blood. He planted his feet firmly, expressionless, retracted his left fist, then drove it forward.

The muscle burst power from the grass-paved ant gene erupted fully—the fist crushed the man’s nasal bridge, drove into his skull, and the immense impact burst both eyeballs.

The elongated arm strangling his neck suddenly went limp.

Li Cheng silently retracted his fist. In his bloodshot vision, he saw three red blood-amber stones fall from the man’s split skull.

“Aaaah—”

Behind him, the woman let out a piercing shriek, stretched her neck, and hurled her head like a meteor hammer.

Li Cheng barely twisted his body aside and raised his elbow to brace for impact.

Thud!

He was slammed into the wall surface; the wallpaper split, revealing the white paint beneath.

The shrieking continued as the woman, frenzied, slammed her head forward again—but Li Cheng had recovered.

He raised both arms, the twin bone blades angled downward, and stabbed sharply into either side of her neck the instant her head came hurtling in. He yanked hard—severing her head.

The grotesque head rolled on the floor, soaking in a ring of dust and braised pork rib broth. From its severed stump, three more blood-amber stones tumbled out.

(End of Chapter)