Chen Ming wiped the rain off his helmet and took another look at the fallen herd of beasts at the foot of the hill.
After confirming that there were no surviving beasts, he turned to leave the area.
But just then, he suddenly saw a large figure limping through the curtain of rain in the distance.
This was also a frenzied beast, but its right foreleg seemed to have broken on the road.
So while its kind had succumbed, it had only just arrived here.
Chen Ming raised his pistol, aiming at the beast’s eyes, ready to end its life.
But after thinking it over, he shifted the pistol and aimed at its other good leg, and fired.
The bullet didn’t completely pierce its knee but got lodged between the joints.
The beast felt no pain; instead, it dragged its wounded leg further forward.
Not having moved more than two steps, it collapsed to the ground, desperately writhing.
Chen Ming circled to its back and shot its hind legs as well.
The beast, with all limbs crippled, could only struggle futilely on the ground, while a pool of fresh blood, rather than rotten, accumulated beneath it and was washed away by the rain.
Chen Ming quickly sped up his actions and returned to the spaceship to retrieve some blood-stopping herbs from the cold storage.
And also an extra piece of chain meant for reinforcing the fence that Chen Ming had made himself a couple of days ago.
After some effort, Chen Ming used the chain to bind the paralyzed beast to the ground, connecting one end to the spaceship.
During this process, it continued to struggle, and the exertion worsened its blood loss.
Fortunately, before it bled out entirely, Chen Ming applied medicine to its wounds.
Its now immobilized and insensate legs were wrapped in bandages to stop the bleeding.
Having done all this, ɴᴇᴡ ɴᴏᴠᴇʟ ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs ᴀʀᴇ ᴘᴜʙʟɪsʜᴇᴅ ᴏɴ ɴovᴇl(ꜰ)ir(e).nᴇt
The beast’s madness hadn’t abated in the slightest.
Chen Ming shook his head slightly, confirmed once more that the chain was secure, then returned to the spaceship.
The spaceship gently took off, the sound of the chain resonating.
With the beast swaying overhead, the spaceship headed to the temporary survival camp Chen Ming had constructed.
Setting the flight path, Chen Ming searched the spaceship and eventually found Little Stone inside a rock in the storage chamber.
At the moment, it was curled up, its body trembling slightly involuntarily.
Chen Ming prodded it with a sprout he usually kept in his pocket.
Little Stone jolted, slowly turning around.
Its little eyes had lost their lively gleam, looking as if it was enduring unbearable pain.
Even its favorite tender leaves placed before it failed to rouse its interest.
With Chen Ming not taking further action, Little Stone curled up again, still trembling involuntarily.
This wasn’t fear but seemed more like some physiological discomfort.
It appeared that Little Stone, like the other animals, was affected by the same unknown force causing animal madness and bodily decay.
Yet, Little Stone seemed to be containing it, actively suppressing the madness.
What truly is the root of this animal madness?
Chen Ming had to find out.
If someday this madness affected humans, affected himself, he might be able to save himself or Little Stone by figuring things out now.
This was why Chen Ming spared the life of the beast dangling from the spaceship, hoping to glean some insight from it.
But Chen Ming wasn’t stopping at this.
Simply capturing a mad animal didn’t guarantee answers.
Thus, even though it was nearing dusk, Chen Ming planned to undertake another task.
After ensuring the beast was left by the edge of the temporary camp, with its wounds not reopened and unlikely to die of blood loss anytime soon,
Chen Ming once again piloted the spaceship east of the camp.
There might exist an answer there.
Just earlier, Chen Ming had noted a very slight time difference in the transition from calm to madness among the herd of beasts.
The splashes of water on the east side were quicker, indicating that the beasts closer to the east went mad sooner.
Chen Ming did not believe in coincidences, nor did he think that the madness would occur so rhythmically within a herd of nearly thirty beasts.
There must be something in the east.
Additionally, the swarm of sky jellyfish Chen Ming encountered when initially attempting to land were the same.
The initial landing spot was not too far from where Chen Ming had since set up camp.
Although he didn’t pay much attention at the time, a replay from the spaceship’s camera revealed clearly,
The maddened sky jellyfish surrounded the spaceship, with the very first attacking ones coming from the east as well.
This circumstance further confirmed Chen Ming’s hypothesis.
As the speed of the spaceship increased, today’s sudden torrential rain gradually stopped.
The star behind the clouds reappeared, illuminating the ground, making everything in Chen Ming’s vision seem renewed.
The boundary between the purple and green vegetation bore numerous new sprouts, presenting a vibrant scene.
But Chen Ming had no mind to admire this beauty until he figured out the madness plaguing the animals on this planet.
The spaceship soon flew over the boundary, fully entering the expanse of green vegetation.
The cameras mounted outside the spaceship continuously scanned the ground below, hoping to find something.
Yet as time passed, Chen Ming still found nothing unusual.
However, Little Stone unexpectedly emerged from the storage chamber, climbed onto Chen Ming’s shoulder from the captain’s chair, and nibbled on the sprout Chen Ming placed near the stone.
It looked to have recovered back to normal.
Chen Ming patted Little Stone’s head, asking, "Are you okay now?"
Little Stone, unable to respond verbally, simply nuzzled Chen Ming’s face.
The sense of urgency in Chen Ming’s heart slightly eased.
But even though the anomaly on Little Stone vanished, he couldn’t carelessly abandon the quest.
What if it happened again, and Little Stone couldn’t hold up? Where would he find another being to share solitude with, in space?
Moreover, it’s not just Little Stone—other animals would be more severely affected.
If all surrounding animals went mad, where would he find prey to hunt?
Should he relocate to prioritize a new landing site?
Even if a new site were free of these crazed animals, the time required to familiarize himself with a new landing would be costly. Additionally, there’d be losses from unharvested crops he already planted.
So, until he completely lost the ability to solve this issue, Chen Ming couldn’t just leave casually.
Time slipped by as the spaceship conducted a methodical search.
Half of the star had disappeared beyond the horizon.
Chen Ming had nearly lost hope when, just before the last rays of the sun vanished,
He suddenly saw on a monitor a place that clashed starkly with its surroundings.
An abandoned stone building complex.