The evolved bird flock appeared on the camera feed.

Black creatures — a whole mass of them — each one wrong in its own way. Beaks grotesquely enlarged. Crests rising from skulls like tumours. Talons swollen to several times their natural size. Wings that looked like they belonged to something much larger. Tail feathers fanned out into dramatic, oversized plumes. One bird appeared at first glance to have two heads; closer inspection revealed it was a growth bulging from the side of its neck rather than a second skull, though the distinction was academic.

Several specimens were several times — some perhaps ten times — the bulk of the others.

What kind of bird is this?

Shen Cong worked the zoom and frame rate, studying the flock carefully. The mutations were chaotic and varied, but underneath all of it the fundamental body plan was consistent.

Crows.

The calls confirmed it.

“Aah-aah-aah-aah—”

“Aah-aah—”

“Aah-aah-aah—”

Harsh, grating, unpleasant in a way that was immediately familiar. Shen Cong had disliked crow calls as a child. He disliked them now.

Ant colonies swarming makes sense — insects breed at an extraordinary rate. Locusts the same. But crows nest-evolving as a collective? Or is this just mutant crow pack behaviour?

The question didn’t get time to develop. The mutant crow flock had already reached the camp’s airspace, and the situation below was messy — a portion of the survivors hadn’t made it inside yet, caught in the open when the alarm went off. The civil defence siren screamed on without effect. The crows were not impressed by sirens.

Through the camera feed, Shen Cong watched the flock’s flight path resolve into a clear destination: straight for the centre of the camp.

The Evolution Grape vineyard.

There were more of them than he’d estimated. Four to five hundred at minimum, each one roughly the size of a domestic rooster, with the largest specimens comparable to the Sharp Eagle and the Melancholy Bird he’d encountered previously. The black mass formed a spiralling vortex above the grape vines, circling — not yet attacking the survivors directly, which gave the last stragglers time to reach the wooden and stone shelters.

Only Zhu Haifeng and a few other evolved people remained outside, steel-plate shields raised, forming a line at the vineyard’s edge.

They’d worked it out too. The crows were here for the grapes.

Shen Cong set down the camera controls and picked up his binoculars, watching from the window. No point closing it now.

After a few minutes of circling, patience gave out. A handful of crows broke formation and dove for the vines.

Bang.

Zhao Yalan’s shot. Clean — she’d taken the fastest diver out of the air on the first trigger pull. Good marksmanship.

It was also the wrong move.

The gunshot hit the flock like a stone hitting a wasp nest. The spiralling formation fractured into a cascade of diving bodies, and Zhu Haifeng’s line opened fire in response — to no meaningful effect. Simultaneously, a significant portion of the flock abandoned the grapes entirely and turned on the defenders instead. The evolved people lasted through approximately one wave before abandoning the position entirely, shouting as they fled, shields doing nothing useful.

The crows settled into the vineyard like they owned it.

Four to five hundred mutant birds, eating their fill — and not only that. They began aggressively claiming territory, driving off anyone who approached the vineyard perimeter. The grape vines were theirs now.

Watching it, Shen Cong thought of the Gentle Sand Pear grove on Jian Mountain. He’d been fortunate there — no evolved creature had claimed it first. Probably the timing of the flood had something to do with it; the storms and flooding might have disrupted whatever would otherwise have moved in.

These crows have just stolen a vineyard. Might as well call them what they are.

Thieving Crows. That would do.

Five minutes later, Zhu Haifeng, Li Weijun, Xu Wanxian, and Zhao Yalan arrived at Vajra together.

“Boss Huang,” Zhu Haifeng said. “We need your help driving them off.”

They’d seen what Shen Cong could do with a crossbow and a slingshot. Anyone who’d witnessed that understood the Thieving Crows weren’t a problem at his level.

“I don’t like going far from my vehicle,” Shen Cong said, and turned back to his screens.

Li Weijun stepped forward. “Boss Huang, I’m asking sincerely. I know there’s been friction between us. But we’ve all had five days to watch how you operate, and I believe you’re a man of your word. Please — as fellow survivors — help us.”

“I said I don’t like going far from my vehicle,” Shen Cong repeated, same tone.

Zhao Yalan’s jaw tightened. Zhu Haifeng caught her arm before she could speak.

“Boss Huang,” Zhu Haifeng said carefully, “the Provisional Government is willing to compensate you. Name your terms. We’ll pay.”

“Not interested. And let me ask you something — why are you so fixated on me solving this? If the crows eat the grapes and leave, the problem resolves itself.”

He meant it. He wasn’t going out there.

The camp was the Provisional Government’s territory, not his. Fourteen hundred people, unknown variables, possible agendas he couldn’t map — and they wanted him out in the open, away from Vajra. Even if no individual here could seriously threaten him, quantity had its own dangers. He wasn’t naive enough to think goodwill was universal just because he’d restructured their leadership.

And why exactly were they so eager to get him outside? That question didn’t have a comfortable answer.

Zhao Yalan lost patience. “Can you not see what’s happening? Those crows aren’t just eating ripe grapes — they’re eating the new flower clusters too. The ones that haven’t even set fruit yet. Who knows if they’ll stop at the fruit, or strip the leaves after. They could destroy the entire vineyard. We’re asking for help, we’re offering to pay you, and this is what we get?”

Shen Cong was unmoved. “Smoke them out. Fire attack. Gradual attrition. A crow flock isn’t difficult to deal with.”

“We’re trying to protect the vineyard, not burn it down,” Zhao Yalan snapped.

Li Weijun put a hand on her arm, cutting her off before the temperature could climb further. He stepped to the window directly.

“Boss Huang.” His voice was level. “If you drive the crows out and save the vineyard, I’ll give you the most valuable thing the camp has.”

That got Shen Cong’s attention in a way nothing else had. “What thing?”

Li Weijun paused for a moment. “Meteorite fragments.”

Silence.

It wasn’t just Shen Cong who froze. Zhu Haifeng, Xu Wanxian — everyone who hadn’t heard this before stared at Li Weijun.

“Meteorite fragments?” Zhu Haifeng said. “What meteorite fragments? Brother Li, what are you talking about?”

Only Zhao Yalan showed a flash of recognition — evidently she’d known.

Li Weijun didn’t answer the others. He kept his eyes on Shen Cong. Saying it had been a gamble — a bet that Shen Cong would know what it meant. The reaction confirmed it.

Shen Cong’s mind was moving quickly.

Most people here probably had no idea what meteorite fragments signified. But Shen Cong knew. Wang Gen had told him — possibly because Wang Gen had considered him already dead at the time and felt comfortable being candid. Wang Gen had explained the military’s conceptual division of the territory: barren zones, abundant zones, Oases. And he’d said the meteorite fragments were likely connected to the Oasis phenomenon — that they were what created those pockets of extreme evolution.

But if the camp had meteorite fragments, this place should be anything but barren. The vineyard itself was evolved, yes, but the surroundings were ordinary wasteland. Nothing consistent with an Oasis effect.

Is Li Weijun lying? Baiting me out with a story?

Or is this genuine, and the fragments are somewhere on the mountain — not in the camp itself?

Zhu Haifeng’s face doesn’t look like performance. Zhao Yalan reacted like someone who already knew. That’s harder to fake.

Do I trust it? Is the risk worth taking?

And then, underneath all of that:

I can’t keep hiding in Vajra indefinitely. I have to learn to operate outside it. The dependency is a liability.

The Thieving Crows showed up suddenly — Li Weijun couldn’t have engineered that. No time to set a trap. More likely this is genuine desperation, and he’s offering the best card he has.

And the Super Baogai Armor holds against anything at crow-level. They don’t have the force or speed to breach it. The risk is manageable.

If the meteorite fragments are real — if they can help unlock what Activity actually is, whether it’s a disease or an evolutionary mechanism — that’s worth more than the risk.

Shen Cong looked at Li Weijun. “How do I know you actually have them?”

“The fragments are deeper in Fenghuang Mountain. I can’t prove it from here. But if they don’t exist, you can do whatever you want to me afterward.” Li Weijun held his gaze. “That’s my word.”

One breath passed.

“Deal,” Shen Cong said. “I drive the crows out. You deliver the meteorite fragments.”

“Deal.” Li Weijun exhaled, and turned to Zhu Haifeng. “Circumstances required an executive decision. I’ll brief you on everything once this is resolved.”

Zhu Haifeng had questions — clearly — but he nodded. “The crows come first.”

Clang.

Less than a minute later, Shen Cong stepped out of Vajra in full Super Baogai Armor. Before leaving, he sent Blackhead its orders through their bond: guard Vajra, intercept any intruder immediately, use the mandibles first and Super-2 Acid if needed.

He rolled his shoulders once and looked toward the vineyard.

“Fast and clean. Then take me to those meteorite fragments.”

(End of Chapter 107)