Chapter 74: First Fortress Part 1

The bedroom door clicked shut softly.

Gu Xianqing stood casually in the center of the room, her smile unwavering. “Any new thoughts on the deal, Saint Lord?”

Everyone knew the talk was just bait, but Gu Xianqing seemed utterly unconcerned by Sekhmet’s battle-ready stance. She plunged straight into discussing the transaction.

Sekhmet’s face remained impassive as she replied in a low voice, “Five years ago, you wanted my main army to enter the Black Fog, and I refused. But we can renegotiate now. Tell me first how to enter the Black Fog, and then we’ll bargain.”

Enter the Black Fog? An He stood behind Sekhmet, mildly surprised. She finally understood what the two had discussed before. What did Gu Xianqing want with the army?

Entering the Black Fog meant certain death. Was Gu Xianqing planning to sit back and let the First Fortress’s main forces march to their collective doom without lifting a finger?

“Ah.” Gu Xianqing tilted her head back with a light sigh. “I get it. The Saint Lord wants to get something for nothing.” She bluntly exposed the other’s intentions with a tone laced with arrogant provocation. “Too bad—there’s no method. It’s all about sheer luck and toughness. Didn’t An Ning tell you? She wandered the Black Fog alone for a long time and became the sole survivor.”

A flicker of surprise crossed An He’s eyes. Gu Xianqing hadn’t looked her way, but this was the second time—the second person—to mention “An Ning” to her.

Gu Xianqing had never brought up that name in front of An He before.

“Not telling you makes sense,” Gu Xianqing continued with a laugh before Sekhmet could respond. “After all, An Ning isn’t so loyal to you anymore.”

“You do know her.” Sekhmet’s eyes tightened at the corners, an indescribable oppressive undercurrent surging forth.

Gu Xianqing arched a brow but said nothing. Every one of her movements goaded Sekhmet. The Saint Lord was like a fully drawn bowstring right now, the muscles in her forearms taut to the limit. The more relaxed Gu Xianqing appeared, the stronger the sense of crisis she evoked.

She was doing it on purpose. Tonight’s Gu Xianqing felt slightly different from An He’s memories—like she had come to this meeting with a willingness to go down in flames.

An He had never seen Gu Xianqing like this. Was it anger clouding her judgment? The thought unsettled An He.

And then Gu Xianqing poured fuel on the fire: “Hardly anyone remembers An Ning’s name anymore.”

She glanced carelessly at An He, those two syllables emphasized again as they slipped lightly from her lips—disturbing nothing but the air. Yet they slashed across An He’s heart like an axe.

Something was off. Why did that name feel so familiar?

An He nearly forgot where she’d heard it. Only after Gu Xianqing repeated it did it hit her—this name held another title in her heart: Mom.

Her mom.

When An He was little, she thought her mother’s name was Mom.

Those hazy memories, like frosted glass, finally shattered into fragments, confirming themselves as fabricated illusions rather than truth.

An He couldn’t remember anymore. She didn’t recall her mother’s name, or whether her mother loved her or treated her sternly. The indifference in their later years, the scant mother-daughter conversations—they had all bubbled into nothingness.

So, it was An Ning.

A researcher, not a mom.

Of course. She should have realized it the moment she learned she was a Cabin Cocoon.

An He silently lifted her head. Strangely, her throat muscles tightened uncontrollably, choking her, aching. The pain couldn’t spill out—it wanted to flee through her tear ducts instead.

An He blinked gently.

No one noticed her expression in the shadows. Gu Xianqing and Sekhmet were still locked in confrontation.

“Wasn’t the Saint Lord there when An Ning died?” Gu Xianqing raised her voice, pointing to her temple. “I’ve read your memories. The final blow that ended her life came from you. I thought you’d forgotten her name too.”

An He’s body jolted. The Saint Lord’s shadow at her feet grew even darker.

In the distance, Gu Xianqing flashed that smile again—the one of a plan succeeding. She hadn’t looked at An He, but it felt like a repeat of the gritted-teeth warning from the dream: “See? Don’t really give your life for your Saint Lord.”

Sekhmet, oblivious to why Gu Xianqing kept harping on that name, demanded, “What’s your connection to An Ning?”

“None.” Gu Xianqing denied it sincerely. “I just heard about some thief who took the so-called Divine Blood, so I looked into it.”

“You infiltrated our fortress five years ago to find her?”

“No.” Gu Xianqing said, “She was ordinary, not worth my effort. One of my goals was the deal we’re discussing. But you refused.”

Gu Xianqing took two steps back, inching toward the door. A flicker of wariness flashed in her smiling eyes. “I think you won’t agree this time either. We’ve hit another impasse.”

She shrugged. The moment her words landed, she spun around, bending at the knees in a wide stance—like she was about to burst through the door.

With her movement, Sekhmet finally drew the weapon from her waist.

It was a strangely shaped short gun, its barrel featuring several circular openings. In an instant, six bullets fired simultaneously, streaking toward Gu Xianqing’s back in the blink of an eye.

Just bullets? No, not just bullets.

The six copper bullets deformed wildly in midair as if under unimaginable pressure, exploding into countless fine dust particles that enveloped Gu Xianqing’s position—without losing any momentum!

All the changes happened in a split second.

An He’s heart sank sharply. But Gu Xianqing hadn’t reached for the door handle. Instead, she’d already kicked off the wall with her momentum, flipping through the air with explosive core power. She grazed past the bullet dust as she descended.

A gun had appeared in her hand at some point. The moment she landed, she crouched, spun, and fired back swiftly!

“Don’t let her escape,” Sekhmet ordered An He.

The instant An He raised her eyes, time stretched via her Innate Talent. Gu Xianqing’s bullets hung suspended two centimeters from Sekhmet, easily dodged. Gu Xianqing arched a brow, her glance at An He brimming with provocation and pride.

The bullets slowed. Gu Xianqing’s movements slowed too. An He snatched a short dagger from the table, lunged low, and stabbed toward Gu Xianqing.

An He’s Shatterblade Time restricted Gu Xianqing’s firing speed—and also blocked Sekhmet’s attack on her.

Sekhmet had only just raised her hand, revealing the tip of her Innate Talent’s iceberg. An He had no idea how Sekhmet separated bullets midair—like some kind of material reconstruction ability.

No doubt, this leader with absolute deterrence possessed formidable hard power.

How dare Gu Xianqing? An He thought. Someone without a combat Innate Talent, daring to come alone? Just to confront her face-to-face about An Ning and give a warning?

Or to witness which side she truly stood on?

Way too insane.

Gu Xianqing was prepared. The moment An He activated Shatterblade Time, she was already moving. She knew An He’s talent inside out, had calculated the time difference precisely. She seized An He’s collar and pressed her gun barrel against An He’s shoulder.

The pull’s inertia spun them face-to-face. In that second, Gu Xianqing whispered hotly against An He’s ear: “Satisfied? You’ve been put to good use.”

The slowed time stretched Gu Xianqing’s words into a drawn-out drawl—mocking, yet bitter. Amid the tingling numbness, An He felt a daze. Was Gu Xianqing heartbroken over her betrayal?

A faint guilt stirred in An He from their dream quarrel.

The next second, Gu Xianqing exploited that guilt.

With a twist of her wrist, she snatched the dagger from An He’s grasp unnoticed and plunged it mercilessly into An He’s shoulder socket. Not fast, but pinpoint accurate.

A twist, and blood sprayed.

An He frowned. Gu Xianqing was exceptionally good at disarming others.

What guilt? What heartbreak? They were still enemies stabbing each other!

But this dagger gave Gu Xianqing no edge. Sekhmet’s killing intent and vigilance were at an all-time high—she seemed determined to end her in one go.

As the two brushed past, the bedroom clicked. The entire wall rippled like a lake surface. Mechanisms activated, revealing countless platforms, each mounting a machine gun.

An ambush, as expected.

No prelude, no orders—all muzzles opened fire automatically, spraying indiscriminately at every living thing in the room.

An He was glad she hadn’t summoned her Nestsoul, nor had the Saint Lord. She raised a hand to defend herself, only to see bullets heading for Sekhmet and her shatter into powder midair. Those aimed at Gu Xianqing still erupted like explosive gunfire.

This overwhelming assault left Gu Xianqing with almost no chance of survival tonight.

At that moment, Sekhmet commanded, “End the talent.”

The instant Shatterblade Time vanished, the bullets would accelerate and riddle Gu Xianqing.

An He couldn’t disobey.

For a split second, An He considered grabbing Gu Xianqing’s waist and fleeing before the battle heated up. But that would ruin her infiltration—the Ninth Fortress’s crisis remained unresolved.

So, An He abandoned the idea immediately.

Deep pain throbbed from her shoulder, her heart aching in tandem—somehow worse than in the dream.

An He couldn’t help wondering: What would Gu Xianqing do? With their relationship now, when personal gain clashed with the other’s safety, Gu Xianqing would unhesitatingly choose gain. Why else stab her?

So would she!

An He released her grip. Shatterblade Time ended, and the bullets regained speed, hurtling through the air.

At the same time, Gu Xianqing yanked out the knife with ruthless eyes. A few drops of blood splattered, but before they hit the ground, she spun, wrapped an arm around An He’s neck, and used her as a human shield.

Dizzying bullets sped in, grazing An He’s eyelashes. In this life-or-death moment, Sekhmet still shattered those warheads.

Every action flashed by in the blink of an eye. No weaklings here, no sloppy moves—the clash shifted too rapidly. One misstep, and blood would spray.