Chapter Seventy-Four: Cao the Novice Is Injured

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As the moon shifted and the stars moved, the morning sun rose. Normally, after the night’s retreat, dawn would bring a trace of moisture, but within the radiation zone, the air remained parched.

With a muffled sound, an arm clutching a long blade emerged from the earth, followed by a man climbing out from beneath the ground.

“Ugh.” The man spat out soil-laden saliva, brushed the mud off his magnificent blade, and muttered, “This cursed place—when will I finally get out?”

Last night, Ye Bai had truly grasped the terror of the radiation zone: the relentless howls, the battles for better territory, scraps of food, or simply the strong hunting the weak. If not for sheltering in the territory of the Winged Lion variant, Ye Bai would have doubted his own chances of survival.

Morning was said to be the safest time of the day. After a night of slaughter, the variants had retreated to rest. Ye Bai unfolded his map, confirmed his direction, and continued toward the coordinates provided by Cao Monk.

On the edge of Sector D, where the Guard Post met the radiation zone, black blood seeped into the ground, forming a thin layer. Amid the darkness, one could occasionally spot a streak of red—the blood of human warriors.

“Captain, are those three kids reliable? It’s been days now, and the scale of the variant rebellion is growing. Have they already been dealt with by the monsters inside?” A bald man stared at the screen before him, his expression complex as the number of variants increased.

After a moment, he added, “Should we request another mission? I bet those three are already dead.”

The station chief, seated at the head, reached out and pulled the video on the large screen closer to his console. He observed for a while, zoomed in on the area behind the variants, studied it carefully, and finally spoke slowly: “Old Zhu, after so many years, you’re still so impatient. That temperament of yours means you’ll always be stuck here with me at the Guard Post. Look—how many times have these variants attacked?”

Old Zhu, whose full name was Zhu Neng, was one of the few confidants the station chief could trust. In the beginning, ten brothers had vowed to share fortune and hardship together. Now, only Old Zhu remained, eking out survival with him in this humble Guard Post. Sometimes, the chief dreamed of those brothers, feasting and drinking together, their passion catching the attention of the main city’s elite. Yet in the game of power, only they were sacrificed. Were they destined to live their lives confined to this little outpost?

Zhu Neng had once had hair, his appearance somewhat refined—like the young gentlemen of the main city. When they withdrew from the city, three brothers died. The chief and the others tried to return for revenge, but after several failed attempts and losing another brother, they eventually followed orders and came here.

At first, the place had no real fighting force. The authorities called it a lifeline, but it was merely a way to avoid leaving any loose ends. But life meant struggle—against people, against beasts, against fate. They survived—not all, but they survived. Even though only two remained, even though Zhu Neng had had his head cleaved open saving the chief, even though four more brothers died cleaning up rebellious variants, their bodies left unrecognizable—they lived, and living meant hope.

Old Zhu sat beside the chief, the scar on his scalp twitching with every change in expression. He said, “It must be the third time.”

“Yes, the third time—the last time!” The chief straightened in his chair, his deep eyes swirling with strange light. Old Zhu had always claimed the chief was too comfortable now, lacking the courage to return to the city and seek the truth. But he had no idea how much the chief had sacrificed over the years for their survival.

“Did you see anything?” The chief closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were calm. “No, not a single one. That means they managed to wipe out the source. Why they haven’t returned yet, I can’t say.”

With that, the chief stood abruptly, his flesh trembling. Only Old Zhu knew that despite his seemingly corpulent frame, his body fat had never exceeded ten percent.

“Someone, bring me my weapon. This year’s ‘farce’ should end. Every year, I have to play this game with those students, and I’m sick of it.”

“Yes, sir.” A guard entered from outside.

“Old Zhu, come finish this farce with me. They’ve disturbed the souls of our brothers for far too long. I imagine they’re sick of it too.”

The chief led the way, followed by Zhu Neng as they climbed to the top of the city gate. Only then did Zhu Neng realize: every year, after the variants feigned attack two or three times, there would only be three assaults. The last would include five to ten water-type variants.

“Huff, huff.”

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Not far away, three men hauled a weapon that could only be described as a colossal heavy cannon, slowly approaching the wall. Upon sight, the chief seized the heavy cannon—The Destroyer. The Destroyer meant annihilating everything that stood in its path.

He had commissioned this weapon specially from the main city. It had two modes: sniper cannon and pulse machine gun. Most importantly, it could fuse with elemental power, and he was the only one at the Guard Post to have awakened fire affinity, greatly enhancing the Destroyer’s might.

“Thud.”

The chief placed the Destroyer atop the highest point of the wall. Those below felt the entire structure shudder.

“Come on!” The chief stood at the wall’s crest, bellowing, surveying the whole battlefield.

Ordinary variants, H-type variants, siege variants, strength-type variants—all scattered across the field, relentlessly attacking the Guard Post.

With a flick of his thumb, the chief extended an ordinary-length scope from the Destroyer. His body bent slightly, chin pressed against the cannon’s tail, eyes narrowed, hunting for prey.

“Bang.” The chief’s body recoiled with the Destroyer’s kickback but quickly steadied himself for a second shot. “Bang.”

Cracks appeared in the iron-brick platform beneath his feet—the bricks shattered.

“Bang, bang, bang.”

The chief kept firing the Destroyer, wildness burning in his eyes. He relished watching the laser beams—thick as an arm—pierce the variants below, their black blood splattering. Only then did he feel transported back to those days.

Perhaps unsatisfied, the chief slammed the Destroyer; the weapon transformed, its long barrel splitting into six smaller barrels, long chains of pulse ammunition hanging from both sides. Four small claws emerged from the base, gripping the wall tight.

“Come on, hahahaha!” Madness was survival; the chief’s eyes were bloodshot, memories of his ten brothers flooding his mind.

With a pull of his finger, the barrels spewed laser tongues, the variants below thinning rapidly.

The chief laughed maniacally, tears streaming from his eyes, shaken away by the cannon’s recoil—who knew where they flew. Brothers, watch from above. If I live, I will return to the main city and reclaim our glory.

——————————————

“Monk, I’ve arrived. Where are you?” Ye Bai stood at the gathering point, seeing no one, and sent a message to Cao Monk.

“Don’t move!” A light voice appeared behind Ye Bai.

Ye Bai smiled, turned, and removed his “Bandit,” saying, “Ling’er, you’re too old for children’s games.”

Just then, Cao Monk emerged from his hiding spot, exchanging a smile with Ye Bai. They released Yao Ling, walked toward each other, shared a fierce hug, and said in unison, “You’ve worked hard.”

Though they hadn’t been apart long, the dangers of the radiation zone and constant tension made it feel like an eternity.

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“How do we get out?”

The same question—one all three wished to avoid, but couldn’t ignore.

“I want to go to Sector B.” With few words, Cao Monk uttered a destination Yao Ling dared not even imagine.

“There are Foundation-level beings there, and even more unimaginable monsters deeper in.” Yao Ling, seeing Cao Monk’s serious face, realized he wasn’t joking and was deeply startled.

“Have you noticed? Since we entered Sector C, heading back always leads us into monsters—sometimes in packs. Logically, variants should grow fewer from D to C, but now we’re encountering only entry-level ones. Could something be wrong?” Cao Monk said uncertainly.

Ye Bai looked at the map. They had reached the edge of Sector C—no further map data, meaning they were close to Sector B.

“We could try, but B isn’t accessible yet. Let’s see if we can find a senior group near the C boundary to help us out. As things are now, there’s no way out.” After yesterday’s harrowing experience, Ye Bai fully understood the terror deep within Sector C.

“Wuu—” Suddenly, a sound like a girl’s cry echoed from the sky, interrupting their discussion.

“What was that?”

Ye Bai, Cao Monk, and Yao Ling quickly retreated to their hiding spot.

“Little bird, little bird, don’t run—come play with baby!” A voice drifted to their ears. The three were perplexed. Baby? What nonsense! A child here?

Then, a flock of corpse bats swept across the sky—much larger and more ferocious than those Yao Ling recognized.

Suddenly, a yellow beam shot up from the ground, piercing two or three corpse bats, erasing them mid-air.

Ye Bai was dumbstruck. Destroyed? The corpse bats killed—nothing left. Who could do such a thing?

Spooked, the remaining bats scattered, one flying toward Ye Bai and Cao Monk.

“Get out of the way!” Ye Bai drew his magnificent blade, swinging a red arc skyward, but the bats seemed to have evolved again—the attack did nothing but spark like fireworks on their bodies.

In an instant, the bat dove, then soared away. In less than ten seconds, before Ye Bai could react, the bats vanished, the yellow light in the sky fading.

As he was about to breathe a sigh of relief, Yao Ling’s shout broke in.

“Monk, what’s wrong! Monk!!” Yao Ling’s voice trembled.