Chapter 18: The Withered Forest Hideout

Gu Xianqing stood on one foot atop a dangling branch, her back pressed against the trunk. She had rolled her sleeves up to her elbows, revealing the sleek, toned lines of her forearms.

A clean beige hairband was tied around her wrist, serving as both a makeshift bandage and an elegant accessory.

With graceful poise, Gu Xianqing picked up the hammer resting on a nearby bough. She aimed it at a pre-placed screw and brought it down with a clean, decisive swing.

Before her stood a nearly completed two-story shelter: the upper level hung suspended for living quarters, while the lower one was for storing supplies. Most of the trees here were dead and unreliable for support, so the structure relied entirely on steel framing—and they had plenty of that.

Now, sheet metal pried from cargo trucks was being fastened atop the shelter by Gu Xianqing, forming a sturdy roof perfect for shielding against wind and rain.

“Any luck recruiting helpers?” Gu Xianqing asked Yan Qiong as she worked.

“Helpers? Not easy to find,” Yan Qiong replied. She huddled into a ball, squatting on the second floor of the shelter, her hands gripping her ever-present long spear. “The fortress checkpoints have gotten stricter lately. Haven’t run into any suitable Defectors.”

Gu Xianqing smiled indifferently, hammering away with resounding clangs: “No rush. We’ll find them in time.”

“Speaking of which.” Yan Qiong handed over the last screw. “I think you’ve looted too much. With just the two of us, how are we supposed to use fifty guns? Look, there’s no room to store them all.”

The ground was piled high with supplies. Aside from salt and food, which Gu Xianqing had left behind, everything else—gasoline, fresh water, steel, and more—encircled the tree trunk, stretching out ten meters.

Gu Xianqing leaped down from the iron railing above Yan Qiong’s head and tossed aside the hammer. “No problem. If the forest can’t hold it all, we’ll stack it out on the Wasteland. Anywhere I can set foot is my territory.”

She casually swept the hair from her forehead and tiptoed to measure the height of the second floor. “We’re building a force here. Once we have more people, fifty guns won’t be nearly enough to go around.”

Yan Qiong prodded Gu Xianqing’s lower back with the spear barrel. “Big talk coming from you.”

Gu Xianqing dodged with a laugh. “I never boast.”

She paused her work and sat beside Yan Qiong, propping herself up with her hands. In her mind, she pictured the outsiders’ exaggerated expressions upon discovering these stockpiles.

Gu Xianqing’s lips curved into a smile, but alas, she wouldn’t witness that scene. Few had the skill to breach this forest.

Beyond the vast Withered Forest lay hordes of Tier Four Bone Eaters, drawn here by her and Yan Qiong, forming a natural barrier.

To defeat them would require a full regiment—at least two battalions. No fortress had that many troops to spare.

Moreover, all fortress survivors abided by two unspoken rules on the Wasteland: never enter the Withered Forest, and never enter the Swamp. The dangers there skyrocketed to unfathomable levels.

“About those helpers,” Yan Qiong picked up the thread, “can’t we use the Bone Eaters in the forest? You seem pretty enthusiastic about tailing them and picking up the scraps.”

These past days, the Bone Eaters killed, and they scavenged the spoils—strange bedfellows, neither side getting their hands bloody.

“You say that,” Gu Xianqing tilted her head, “but these Tier Four Bone Eaters can only be exploited, not controlled. I can’t command them.”

What Gu Xianqing wanted were things that obeyed her orders. “Grandma Yan, you keep pulling in Defectors.”

Defectors were those who had fled the various fortresses.

Most were patients infected with Bone Erosion Disease, unwilling to face execution and incineration.

These patients staked their lives on escaping the fortress, praying for some miraculous encounter to prolong their lives—but it rarely panned out.

A smaller portion were healthy individuals forced to flee due to oppression in the fortress.

Of those, a tiny fraction might be rescued by other fortresses.

The rest mostly died en route.

Gu Xianqing smiled at the forest’s trove of loot, her dangling legs swinging idly.

No matter the type, once Defectors entered the Wasteland, eight or nine out of ten became infected, gradually turning into more Bone Eaters.

Yan Qiong’s task now was to swoop in with “aid” before their condition worsened and they lost their humanity, then bring them under their banner.

“Best are second-stage Bone Erosion Disease patients. Worst case, third-stage,” Gu Xianqing specified. “Second-stage ones still look human and retain their minds—nice and clean.”

As for healthy people, Gu Xianqing didn’t consider them.

Setting aside old grudges, healthy folks avoided them like the plague; they were hard to recruit.

Unless it was someone like An He—useful and utterly adorable. She’d give those a second glance.

Gu Xianqing pondered leisurely, then froze, her gaze locking on.

Moments later, she snatched a nearby long sniper rifle, chambered a round, raised it level, her forearm muscles tensing in fluid lines. She flicked off the safety and peered through the scope before firing.

The bullet whizzed into a branch three meters away.

The dead twig shook, clamping down firmly on the bullet.

No explosion.

This was a gun looted from a First Fortress truck—standard ammo, unprocessed. Heroic Spirit troops typically used it to dispatch unruly citizens; the bullet’s kinetic force alone was lethal to ordinary people.

Gu Xianqing lowered the barrel slightly, frowning.

She’d fired too hastily and missed the target.

Yan Qiong glanced into the distance, her cloudy eyes pinpointing movement. “You trying to hit that ant?”

Gu Xianqing said nothing. The old woman shook her head and nudged the barrel up with her spear. “Told you many times: intentional aim, unintentional firing. Mind your sight alignment and sight picture.”

Gu Xianqing raised the rifle again.

Through the scope, an ant parasitized by Cordyceps fungus staggered toward the end of its life. Mycelium threads infiltrated its body, making it wobble as it climbed high into the dead branch, seeking moisture.

Under the fungus’s control, the ant clamped its mandibles into the bark to anchor itself, primed to become the perfect incubator.

When ripe, slender fruiting bodies would sprout from the corpse, releasing spores to infect new hosts.

Cycle after cycle, endless and relentless.

Gu Xianqing watched with keen interest.

She’d read about it in the Oasis library: long ago, these fungi parasitized bat moth larvae, forming what people called “winter worm summer grass.”

Back then, no one imagined humans would become some kind of “worm grass” themselves.

Satisfied, Gu Xianqing fired again.

The bullet spun from the chamber, precisely blasting off the ant’s head and mercifully ending its tormented existence.

The round kept flying until it embedded in a tree trunk behind.

Gu Xianqing calmly stowed the rifle as if nothing had happened, continuing: “I’ll provide these homeless patients with space to survive and resources. In return, they work for me as my subordinates. It’s a win-win.”

Yan Qiong gazed at Gu Xianqing and sighed. “I thought you were joking about building a camp.”

“How could I be? You never take me seriously.” Gu Xianqing draped an arm around Yan Qiong’s neck. “Once our group grows and we seize better weapons from the humans, we’ll storm the Oasis.”

“The Oasis? That’s your goal?” Yan Qiong startled. “Truth or bluff this time? Just us?”

“Just us.” Gu Xianqing nodded, her deep blue eyes sparkling as she smiled kindly. “If the patients hesitate, tell them, ‘We’ll take you to the Oasis for treatment—there’s a cure there.'”

“Got it. Trickery and deception,” Yan Qiong said.

Gu Xianqing protested: “How is that trickery? Isn’t that how the human Church preaches? The God dwelling in the land of plenty takes away sickness, bestows gospel, and purifies souls.”

“Takes away sickness?” Grandma Yan recalled Gu Xianqing’s ant-killing and shivered, slipping out from under her arm to sit farther away.

What god? There were no gods in this world—only humans struggling to preserve the flame. Walking the earth were devils alone.

“So, the fresh water—you looting it for your new recruits?” Yan Qiong asked.

“Ah, no.” Gu Xianqing pointed behind her. “Originally for showers. I’m building a shower stall here.”

Yan Qiong rolled her eyes. “Always messing with useless gadgets.”

Gu Xianqing smiled without responding.

She was a clean freak, after all. Clothes had to stay neat; yellow dirt or bloodstains needed prompt cleaning. Unlike some wolves, birds, or people who let themselves get filthy, with blood caked on—how uncomfortable.

Gu Xianqing examined her hands: spotless, untainted by blood. The dim forest light made her skin appear ghostly pale, almost bloodless.

She dropped her hands and leaped lightly from the second floor, her leather boots cratering the soil. She slung the ordinary sniper over her back. “Grandma Yan, I’m heading out alone today. Do as you like.”

“Where to?” Yan Qiong tugged open the burlap around her neck and peered down.

“To see my little lamb.” Gu Xianqing tilted her head back with a soft laugh, her voice laced with indulgence. “She’s been getting too close to others lately. I don’t like it. As punishment, I’ll take her out for a stroll.”

Yan Qiong: “…”

Gu Xianqing flashed a brilliant smile, but it vanished the instant she turned.

As she walked, she unwound the cloth from her wrist, neatly tied back her hair, straightened her sleeves, and crunched through dead leaves out of the forest.

The motorcycle left in the woods was still there. Gu Xianqing fetched it and swung onto the seat with practiced ease.

The surrounding Tier Four Bone Eaters had multiplied.

Hearing the engine, the Bone Eaters lumbered toward her lazily. Gu Xianqing frowned in disgust. They wouldn’t attack her unprovoked, but they were drawn to her and Yan Qiong—a double-edged sword.

Being trailed by these revolting things was always irritating.

She twisted the throttle; tires spun on the dirt. The bike whipped around, and she retracted her grounded foot, gunning the engine. The motorcycle charged straight at two Bone Eaters.

Just before impact, Gu Xianqing freed one hand, drew her waist knife with a shing, the blade gleaming coldly as it sliced air—severing the joint of the smaller Bone Eater on the right with precision.

At the same time, she kicked it hard. “Out of my way.”

Her voice shed its former warmth, turning icy and sharp.

The motorcycle didn’t slow, squeezing through the gap between the two Bone Eaters.

Clear of the Withered Forest, Gu Xianqing rode east alone along the gravel path.

The Wasteland stretched desolate and grand; the afternoon sun hung dim and hazy, perpetual mists blurring everything.

Finally, the bike crossed the plains and crested a nearby hill.

Gu Xianqing killed the engine and gazed at the Ninth Fortress, then south—from here, driving straight south led through a vast Swamp. Beyond that, two days’ journey brought one to First Fortress territory.

Leaning on the bike, Gu Xianqing pondered, her index finger tapping the handlebars idly. Moments later, a smile returned to her face.

A flock of Ravens appeared in the sky, wings spread wide—resembling floating black specks from afar.

But these black birds flew in the opposite direction from Gu Xianqing, receding into the distance.

Gu Xianqing sighed. “Wrong way. I’m over here.” She unslung the long rifle, mounted it on the bike’s front, swapped in an eight-power scope, attached the suppressor, and fine-tuned the sights.

Then, prone over the motorcycle, she targeted the Ravens.

The locked-on Raven trailed at the rear.

Gu Xianqing’s lips hooked up. Intentional aim, unintentional firing. She parted her lips softly.

Bang.

Her trigger finger squeezed without hesitation.

Through the scope, the Raven jolted, its right wing drooping as it plummeted in a straight line.

Gu Xianqing watched the tiny black speck fall like fading fireworks. An He probably still doesn’t know—Nestsouls can be injured, even “killed.”

She straightened, stowed and shouldered the rifle, and looked skyward.

She stood in plain view now. An He was so vigilant; she should spot her immediately.

…

An He felt a sharp pain explode in her mind, as if some fragile nerve had snapped. She and Heidi were in pursuit of a lone Bone Eater when she glanced back and saw a Raven plummeting straight to the ground, writhing in endless struggle.

Its wing had been shot.

“Wait!”

An He clutched her temple and urgently called out to halt Heidi. The rest of the Ravens wheeled around sharply, and the flood of images they transmitted surged into An He’s brain all at once.

It was Gu Xianqing. The woman had appeared once more.

From a distant hillock beyond the range of the naked eye, Gu Xianqing stood locked in a stare-down with An He’s Raven. Amid the barren gray-black desolation, this woman alone burned like the sole vivid color between heaven and earth.

The instant the Raven turned back toward her, Gu Xianqing raised a hand and waved. An He fell into a daze, swept back into that dream as blood roared uncontrollably to her head—Gu Xianqing had wounded her Raven.

And that woman was still smiling.

This chaotic, perilous sensation was all too familiar to An He. Gu Xianqing had to still be speaking those words she’d heard endless times before.

“An He, come to me.”