Ban Xia moved through the lush forest fully armed like a special forces operative, vigilantly looking around. The tactics for dealing with solitary animals versus pack animals were different. For a single target, you could use traps for a clean, decisive kill. But traps wouldn’t work against a large group—if you trapped and killed one of them, the rest wouldn’t fall for it.

So the only option was active cleanup.

Drive them out of Meihua Complex, teach them a harsh lesson, and make them remember that a monster wielding thunder and lightning lived in this area, so they’d never dare cross that line again.

The girl had planned her route well. The complex’s layout was like a giant military chess board, with the residential buildings as square pieces, red-roofed and gray-walled, tiled and asphalt roads crisscrossing, all other spaces occupied by green plants. Viewed from above, Meihua Complex would appear as a vast green carpet, dotted with red square blocks arranged in rows and columns, the hardened asphalt roads forming a fine grid woven into the carpet.

From north to south, sweeping systematically road by road, searching building by building.

Because it involved entering buildings, it was quite dangerous. Her teacher had warned never to enter unfamiliar buildings unless necessary, and if you must enter, arm yourself to the teeth.

Ban Xia pushed through waist-high weeds to enter the building entrance. The residential buildings in Meihua Complex were all similar, with two households per floor facing each other, and only one household on the first floor.

The building entrance was small, with the nationwide standard dark green password-locked iron door. Inside was the stairway up, with storage space under the stairs.

The iron door had been smashed, hanging off its hinges to one side, severely corroded and covered in brownish-black rust. Ban Xia stepped inside, treading on broken floor tiles.

A heavy musty smell hit her. The girl wrinkled her nose.

She pulled out a handkerchief from her pocket and covered her nose and mouth.

The floor tiles’ original color was hard to discern. After twenty years without inhabitants, the dust had accumulated ankle-deep, plus wind and rain, rotting leaves, animal activity, urine, and feces—all of nature’s sediments had formed a layer of black sludge on the smooth floor. Academically speaking, it was called humus. It had rained recently, and the ground was still somewhat damp. Ban Xia’s boot soles stuck to the black mud.

The stairs were on the left, the single first-floor household on the right, its door facing the storage room under the stairs.

Walking a few steps into the corridor, the floor gradually revealed its original color. Signs of animal activity were obvious, with scattered black or white droppings on the floor, some recognizable to Ban Xia and some not. Animals often came into these buildings to shelter from rain.

Old light blue mailboxes still hung on the wall, one small square for each household, key-operated, with unit numbers on each mailbox.

Faded numbers could vaguely be seen, some 603, some 604.

Ban Xia hummed a tune, carrying the heavy shotgun, pulling open the mailbox doors one by one, tilting her head to look inside.

All empty.

The girl shook her head and strode inside.

There was only one household on the first floor. Ban Xia shouted and kicked the door, then hopped around clutching her knee.

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow…”

Anger rose in her heart. With a “click,” she chambered a round, stepped back, aimed the gun at the door, and said: “Listen up, everyone inside! You’re surrounded! I’m giving you five minutes! Put your pants on your head! Line up and come out!”

“Five—!”

“Four—!”

“Three!”

“Two!”

“One!”

No response.

“Stubborn resistance! Refusing to see reason!”

Ban Xia shouted and kicked the door again, then hopped around on one foot clutching her knee.

“Ow ow ow ow ow ow…”

She stared at the door thoughtfully for a few seconds, pondering as she reached out, grabbed the doorknob, and slowly applied force, pulling outward with a “crack.”

The door didn’t open.

This door indeed couldn’t be opened.

A residential building had eight floors, two units, with two households per floor except for the first floor, so thirty households total per building.

Ban Xia started from the first floor, sweeping upward floor by floor. Some doors wouldn’t open, their hinges and locks completely rusted shut, or the doors jammed. Ban Xia could do nothing about these.

She would search any rooms she could enter.

Man-made buildings were natural shelters for many animals. Some animals that humans thought couldn’t climb stairs had somehow learned to do so.

Ban Xia could see dried droppings from large herbivores in some living rooms, like cattle or red deer. It was hard to imagine how they got up there—did a herd of deer line up to climb the stairs?

Some rooms had poor waterproofing, with rain slowly but persistently seeping in over time, saturating entire walls, and causing patches of moss and mushrooms to grow.

When tired, she would rest on the balcony, cradling her gun, looking up and out.

Across was an identical building, like a giant wearing a red hat, draped in tattered green clothes.

After finishing one building, down to the second.

This work was long and tedious. Ban Xia worked continuously for two days with no results.

Bai Yang asked if it took this much effort.

Ban Xia said obviously, can’t you see I’m just one person? If I had even one more helper, progress would be twice as fast!

Bai Yang asked what he could do to help.

Ban Xia said she needed an assistant, so sent someone over. Why don’t you, BG4MXH, mail yourself over? Think of a way!

Bai Yang said don’t be ridiculous, how could that be done? How could people be sent over?

Ban Xia replied without hesitation: Freeze them!

Bai Yang: You’re trying to murder me. Do you think people can survive being frozen and thawed?

Ban Xia: Then make a bigger time capsule, put in twenty years’ worth of food and water, climb in, and bury it for twenty years.

Bai Yang: That’s being buried alive, I’d suffocate to death.

Ban Xia: Put in twenty years’ worth of oxygen.

Bai Yang: We don’t have that technology, and even if we did, people would age in twenty years.

Ban Xia: I don’t mind if you’re older! Plus I’m very pretty, the teacher says I’m the prettiest girl in the world!

Bai Yang: You’re the only one left in the world, aren’t you number one at everything?

Ban Xia: Hmph.

On the third day, Ban Xia finally found some clues.

Searching along to the east side of the complex, Ban Xia poked her head out Viet Cong-style from the human-height grass and discovered messy footprints and brownish-yellow fur.

There was also black dried blood. The girl bent down, touched some soil with her finger, and sniffed it. It was indeed blood, possibly left from hunting.

The girl slowly followed the trail forward. The further she went, the more fur and footprints she found, and the grass showed signs of being trampled and broken. It looked like there was more than one animal. Ban Xia quickened her pace, gripping her shotgun tightly.

She had finally found these little creatures.

Finally, she pushed through a large patch of grass, raised her gun, and froze.

A chill ran from her feet to her head, her entire back tingling. The girl instinctively raised her gun and turned to aim, her gaze fixed on the lush, dense shrubs behind her.

Her guess had been half right. They were indeed jackals—there was one with yellow fur lying on its side in the grass, its hind legs gnawed clean to expose white bones. The black mass of flies covering the corpse scattered like an explosion when disturbed, swarming around Ban Xia, buzzing.

In such humid, hot weather, a corpse less than two days dead could decompose significantly.

Ban Xia dispersed the annoying flies and slowly crouched down, her gaze falling on the jackal and the massive bite wounds on its fur and spine.

Her guess had only been half right. Jackals had indeed appeared around Meihua Complex, but they weren’t the hunters.

They were just prey.