Chapter 19: Ninth Fortress 19

An He leaped from the vehicle and cradled the wounded Raven in her arms. Only then did she realize that a nestsoul could bleed.

The Raven’s massive wings were soaked in blood, its crimson eyes icy cold. It still unfurled its wings defiantly, struggling to take to the skies once more.

Each twitch sent a pulsing stab of pain through An He’s mind.

Heidi kicked open the car door. “Get in first, An He. Recall it and let it heal.”

An He climbed into the car and set the Raven on her lap.

She bowed her head, gazing at the solitary bird, while countless crimson eyes linked to her mind locked tightly onto Gu Xianqing in the distance.

She didn’t notice that, for a fleeting moment, her eyes brimmed with surging killing intent.

“How do I heal it?” An He wiped the blood from the Raven’s feathers with her sleeve and spoke in a subdued tone.

“Recall it and don’t summon it for at least three days. As long as it hasn’t fully dissipated, your mental energy will automatically mend its wounds.” Heidi seemed accustomed to injured nestsouls and rattled off the treatment protocol with practiced ease. “But during that time, your mobility will take a hit. The worse the nestsoul’s injury, the more mental strain you’ll endure.”

An He fell silent for a moment. “By ‘dissipated,’ do you mean death? What happens if it dies?”

“Your mind suffers massive damage—clinically, it’s like certain brain regions failing. You could go mad, or spend your days in dazed emptiness.” Heidi drove toward the direction of the gunshot. “But you’ve got plenty of nestsouls. Losing one shouldn’t affect you much. Don’t worry.”

Heidi meant to comfort her, but An He wasn’t as panicked or relieved as she’d imagined.

An He just pressed her lips together in silence. Moments later, Heidi watched as An He parted the Raven’s feathers, pressed down on the wound, and extracted a bloodied bullet with her bare hand.

Heidi gasped in shock. “Doesn’t that hurt?!”

A nestsoul and its host were one. The physical wound didn’t sync, but the mental link was intense.

It hurt—a lot. An He’s chest heaved violently, cold sweat beading on her forehead—but she didn’t make a sound.

The Raven on her lap stopped struggling, shuddered once, and hunkered down silently.

An He closely examined the small bullet pinched between her fingers. The shot must have been from too far away; it had lost momentum and lodged in the wing.

Heidi glanced over by chance and slammed on the brakes. “Hold on—that bullet!”

“You recognize it?” An He paused, then handed it to Heidi.

“It’s from the First Fortress. We barely produce these steel-core rounds.” Heidi looked up sharply, her voice rising. “The shooter was from the First Fortress?!”

“I don’t know.” An He had no clue which faction Gu Xianqing belonged to, but the vengeful curiosity burned fiercer. She stared through the windshield. “She’s south of us, Heidi. Let’s chase her down.”

No reminder needed—spotting anything tied to the First Fortress had Heidi flooring the accelerator. The car shot forward like an arrow loosed from a bow, tearing into the wasteland.

The southern terrain rolled in undulating waves, soil mounds blocking the view at every turn. Heidi couldn’t spot anyone ahead and could only shift directions based on An He’s cues.

Gu Xianqing was changing course too.

After cresting three mounds, Heidi glanced amid the chaos and saw the wounded Raven still on An He’s lap. “Why haven’t you recalled it?”

An He didn’t respond, her eyes fixed ahead.

Heidi clocked the issue. “An He, rein in your emotions.”

An He lowered her head.

Seeing this, Heidi sighed. “The commander shouldn’t have sent you out so soon. You haven’t learned self-control yet.”

An He stroked the Raven’s damp feathers, head still bowed. No, Heidi wasn’t entirely right. She could control herself. She’d grasped the knack of summoning nestsouls. If they were chasing Bone Eaters or someone else, An He could master her will and direct her nestsouls at heart’s command.

But they were chasing Gu Xianqing.

Because it was Gu Xianqing, An He couldn’t suppress the intense emotional surge. A toxic brew of crisis instinct, thirst for answers, and thirst for revenge—the same roiling storm as every prior encounter with her, only fiercer now.

Even after their “peaceful” dream exchanges, An He had never ignored that sense of peril. She’d always stayed wary of Gu Xianqing, no matter the intimate gestures or “friendly” aid offered.

Not until that shot. Not until then did An He finally understand her hyper-vigilance.

She feared her, repelled her, guarded against her—and it was all justified. Her sixth sense had been screaming warnings!

Today, Gu Xianqing could wound her nestsoul without hesitation. Tomorrow, she could do the same to An He herself.

An He’s suspicions solidified: Gu Xianqing had never harbored true goodwill toward her.

Tsk. Heart-manipulating bitch.

In the Raven’s relayed vision, Gu Xianqing always hovered at the horizon’s edge. When An He’s Raven lost signal, she’d even stop her vehicle to wait.

For an instant, An He felt like fish in the wasteland, tails wagging after bait as Gu Xianqing lured them into an abyssal trap.

The car raced across the wasteland for ages, far beyond the mission’s twenty-kilometer limit. The sun dipped low, its light fading to gloom.

The terrain shifted—the rolling mounds vanished, the hard gravel under the tires turning to fine grit. Unnoticed, they’d chased into sandy dunes.

“We can’t follow.” Heidi braked hard. “This isn’t a main route. Pushing further is risky.” She killed the engine, climbed onto the hood, and adjusted her goggles’ metal flaps. Vision sharpened, but without elevation, she saw only hazy yellow—no sign of a soul.

“Is the shooter still there?” Heidi called back to An He.

“Still there.”

Gu Xianqing wasn’t just lingering—she’d turned around, heading their way.

An He’s brow twitched. “She’s coming.”

“Really?!”

The dangling carrot swung back into view. Heidi gritted her teeth, vaulted into the driver’s seat, and revved the engine.

The chase resumed across the wasteland. An He was dead certain Gu Xianqing was toying with them: when the distance shrank to nine hundred meters, Gu Xianqing used a dune for cover and wheeled around again, speeding off.

She’d picked this route deliberately—endless dunes obscured sightlines. Heidi couldn’t even glimpse her.

Only An He could.

She wanted only An He to know she was there.

Ten minutes later, Heidi warned again. “No matter what, we have to bail.”

An He clenched her fists, hating it but knowing Heidi was right. “Let’s head back.”

Heidi swung the car around. But soon after, they spotted an abandoned cargo truck in a left-side gully.

The surprise jolted them both. Heidi hopped in to check—empty inside, engine hood crusted with dried blood and Bone Eater skirmish scars.

Some fortress convoy must’ve been ambushed and dragged here.

Thinking it junk, they were stunned when Heidi opened the cargo bay: a freshly serviced old motorcycle, ride-ready. Even better—five barrels of salt and ten crates of cabbage, not long abandoned. Outer leaves yellowed, but cores intact.

Talk about a windfall!

Heidi’s excitement was plain as day. She radioed the fortress sentries at once, beaming. “Good thing my rig has hitch connectors! We’ll haul this back.” Precious supplies—no way they’d rot in the wasteland.

For a split second, An He wondered if Gu Xianqing’s loop-de-loop was to lead them here.

She even felt a twinge of guilt for her harsh suspicions, tempted to retract her accusations.

But as Heidi hooked up the cargo bay for the return trip, An He’s Raven spotted Gu Xianqing in the distance, raising her rifle again.

Aimed straight at the Raven!

An He’s heart lurched. Before she could react—bang!

The crow flock erupted in frantic flight. An He surged to her feet, channeling full focus to scatter her Ravens. The bullet whiffed empty air.

In the next breath, every Raven—including the wounded one—merged into a torrent, a black longsword streaking toward Gu Xianqing.

An He was furious.

She finally saw it: Gu Xianqing had no intention of letting her go. Chase or retreat, this woman had locked onto her today—relentless until her goal was met.

And An He had no clue what that goal was!

As if to prove her right, in the vision, Gu Xianqing raised her gun again—this time, aimed at Heidi.

“Drive!” An He bellowed. The car lurched forward!

Gu Xianqing’s shot merely dinged the roof’s steel frame, way off-mark.

An He’s heart pounded with aftershock. She thought for two seconds, then vaulted over the seat, across the roof, into the cargo bay, and fired up the motorcycle.

It roared to life smoothly. An He piloted it down the ramp, paralleling Heidi’s car. She looked eerily calm, but her marsh-dark eyes churned with all-devouring waves.

“Don’t follow me,” An He instructed. Gu Xianqing’s target was her.

Heidi hesitated, hating the split. They’d fought alongside Ide, no strangers to dividing forces—but this felt off. They didn’t even know the enemy.

An He was set, already turning.

Heidi leaned out the window, tossed her the radio, and yelled, “Report safe every hour! Stay sharp—nab that First Fortress bastard if you can!”

Heidi had bought the First Fortress shooter narrative.

An He clipped the radio to her belt. The bike’s wide tires gripped the sand; it wasn’t her best riding, but the machine was stable, powerful, full-tank.

Far off, Gu Xianqing stowed her gun, mounted her bike. The Ravens shadowed her, razor beaks hovering overhead, poised to strike.

But An He saw it—Gu Xianqing was smiling.

Gu Xianqing even glanced back.

Backlit by the sunset, her wavy red hair and beige headband whipped in the wind, sleeves billowing like sails—but her moves were razor-sharp. Every turn, every drift, flawless.

An He hugged her trail, throttle maxed.

They tore across the dunes, engines screaming, tires skating on the edge.

No one eased off—like two maniacs locked in pursuit, bikes one behind the other, wind-lashed sand pinging off chassis like gunfire.

An He’s bike pulled ahead, plunging into Gu Xianqing’s dust plume.

She fixated on that back—regretting not learning to shoot, not packing heat. Gu Xianqing drew nearer, but no ranged weapon to pin a bullet in that right arm, make her taste the sting.

Scenery blurred to streaks. Soon, the bikes drew abreast.

Across the endless wasteland, just the two of them, barreling toward open flats.

Wind kicked up over the dunes, buffeting An He’s Ravens, less nimble than her.

An He switched tactics: lock on Gu Xianqing.

Opportunity struck.

Abruptly, An He released the grips and lunged—clawing Gu Xianqing’s shoulder. Boots skidded sand twice before she vaulted onto the rear seat, hand yanking her combat knife free.

The discarded bike tumbled end over end, left in the dust.

“Maniac,” Gu Xianqing murmured softly, glee lacing her voice. No panic—the bike held speed, arrowing straight.

The instant An He drew her blade, Gu Xianqing freed a hand and pinned the flat of it with precision.

An He was about to counterattack when Gu Xianqing abruptly changed moves mid-strike. Instead of pressing forward, she reached back and down, bypassing An He’s arm to grip the section of hilt behind the handguard. With a sharp twist of her wrist downward—

An He hadn’t anticipated it. The military knife flew from her grasp due to inertia, and Gu Xianqing deftly sheathed it in a reverse grip.

The woman didn’t even turn her head. She just glanced down briefly.

An He’s heart skipped a beat. Abandoning the knife, she reached around Gu Xianqing’s ribs from behind and clamped down on her neck—something An He had longed to do for ages. In the dream, she had been paralyzed, utterly suppressed by Gu Xianqing’s dominance.

But now it was different. An He could move her limbs freely.

Gu Xianqing wore no dust mask. An He could feel the wind-chilled skin of her neck, and beneath it, the faint, illusory pulse.

An He said nothing. Her thumb dug in hard, forcing Gu Xianqing’s entire head toward her own shoulder—a payback for those earlier shots.

Gu Xianqing’s head was yanked back, her chest heaving violently. It was impossible to tell if she was gasping or laughing.

But An He had clearly underestimated the survival-honed combat skills of someone who roamed the Wasteland.

Gu Xianqing suddenly planted her foot against the bike’s side and rose up. Balancing on one leg, she twisted her waist and slipped nimbly from An He’s armhold. The next instant, she gripped the handlebars and whipped her leg back without mercy.

An He was prepared and leaned back to dodge, but Gu Xianqing instantly retracted and kicked again. Her knee struck An He’s shoulder dead-on, packed with brutal force. Bone met bone with a thud; An He let out a muffled grunt as half her body pitched rightward, nearly tumbling off the bike.

The wheels didn’t slow. An He dangled upside down, clinging on with her legs alone as wind and sand lashed her face. She realized Gu Xianqing knew some real hand-to-hand fighting—and she didn’t.

She had miscalculated. Outside the dream, Gu Xianqing still had her pinned!

An He’s eyes narrowed, fury igniting within. At last, she triggered Shatterblade Time!

In that second, An He clutched Gu Xianqing’s clothes and flipped herself upright. Gu Xianqing, as if anticipating her Innate Talent all along, instantly drew An He’s military knife in that moment.

An He didn’t need the military knife.

She pressed against Gu Xianqing’s back, arms wrapping around her. After locking Gu Xianqing’s waist in an iron grip, the Wrist Blade on her right arm snapped out!

An He bent her elbow. The blade tip plunged into Gu Xianqing’s right waist.

Then, as the bike crested the dune and launched into the air, the Wrist Blade thrust all the way through without hesitation!

Everything around them slowed.

Including the spurting droplets of blood.

Gu Xianqing grunted, her body trembling faintly in An He’s embrace.

An He kept her voice low, uttering their first words to each other since meeting.

“You hurt my Nestsoul. Stabbing you once isn’t too much, is it?”

The bike slammed back to earth with her words, Shatterblade Time ending. The two wheels buzzed wildly ahead for a good distance.

Moments later, Gu Xianqing silently released the throttle and squeezed the brake.

They came to a stop on a barren plain. In the distance, faint glimmers of water caught the dying sunlight, sparkling. Countless Ravens circled overhead, poised to strike.

Gu Xianqing tossed the military knife aside and looked down at the wound in her waist. Two seconds later, she laughed unexpectedly. “Hahaha, An He.” Her long legs splayed to one side as she went limp, reclining fully into An He’s arms and resting her head on her shoulder. “You really surprise me.”

The Wasteland lay silent. The motorcycle’s hum had faded. From afar, the two women huddled together on the bike looked like intimate lovers, heads touching, even their heavy breaths syncing in rhythm.

But nothing could be further from the truth.

An He glanced down at the smile curling Gu Xianqing’s lips and unhesitatingly shoved her right hand forward another inch.

Fresh blood sprayed out, splattering her own hand with hot wetness.

Gu Xianqing’s long lashes quivered. Her eyes half-lidded, she shed tears at the corners—whether from pain or amusement, it was unclear. The sight was seductively alluring. But she didn’t fight back. Instead, she gazed up at An He while grasping the hand hovering at her waist.

Then, ignoring the wound’s depth, Gu Xianqing slowly, inch by inch, withdrew the Wrist Blade.

The moment the blade left her flesh, blood mingled with her red clothes, indistinguishable. Her expression never changed.

An He’s heart pounded fiercely. This woman… she didn’t seem to feel pain either.

Gu Xianqing released the Wrist Blade and slowly raised her hand to An He’s cheek. The blood on her palm smeared across An He’s eyelids and face via her fingertips.

Gu Xianqing tugged down An He’s scarf, deliberately and madly streaking the remaining blood across her cheek and jaw.

Warm, sticky—like scorching gunpowder.

Blood flecked An He’s lashes, blurring her vision red. She looked down, a surge of savage glee and terror churning in her chest. The bizarre sensation prickled her scalp. She hissed under her breath, “Psycho!”

Everyone in this world was a psycho.

Gu Xianqing burst into laughter at the curse, her smile radiant and bewitching. Like in the dream, she gently patted An He’s cheek, then whispered in her ear.

“Very good. Now you know Nestsouls can be hurt.”

The abrupt words jolted An He’s nerves again.

Her Nestsoul hadn’t taken further damage. After all this time, Gu Xianqing wouldn’t mention it without reason.

“What do you mean?” An He demanded warily.