Chapter 20: Ninth Fortress 20 Part 1

“That means you know nothing about Nestsouls,” Gu Xianqing said with a captivating smile on her face. “An He, you know nothing about me.”

In the pause between her words, Gu Xianqing lowered her hand and adjusted the leather strap around her waist. She pressed the leather against the wound, then yanked it tighter with brutal force, staunching the blood.

From the pain, her body trembled slightly in An He’s arms—like the aftershock of a plucked string—but the smile on her lips bloomed even brighter.

“Why say that?”

An He still gripped Gu Xianqing’s waist in a deathlock. For a moment, she suddenly felt as if Gu Xianqing were a blooming poppy flower, with ultimate madness dancing wildly in those deep blue eyes.

“Those folks at the Ninth Fortress are so primitive.” Gu Xianqing panted lightly as she replied. “They think Nestsouls are all just animals. That idea might already be outdated.”

An He furrowed her brow tightly, unable to tell if Gu Xianqing was deceiving her or just biased against the Ninth Fortress.

Did Nestsouls have other forms? She had never seen any.

Gu Xianqing didn’t explain outright. An He wanted to press further, but Gu Xianqing suddenly threw her head back, closing in on An He’s cheek.

Those soft lips brushed past—a featherlight kiss, like the wing of a butterfly sweeping across An He’s profile. From that point, a tingling itch raced instantly through An He’s nerves.

In the instant An He recoiled in panic, Gu Xianqing seized the moment and shoved with sudden force. Once more—precise and successful—she kicked An He right off the bike.

An He tumbled to the ground in slight disarray. Her lips, parted in shock, hadn’t even closed when her whole body rolled together with the combat knife on the dirt, caking her in mud.

Gu Xianqing revved the bike and sped off. After just two strides, she glanced back to savor An He’s stunned expression. She laughed brazenly—An He really was a lost little lamb.

Adorable.

That little lamb quickly stood, her gaze hardening. She snatched up the combat knife and broke into a relentless sprint, trying to catch the motorcycle’s tail.

Gu Xianqing sped up just a bit, slowing again only when An He could no longer keep pace.

She knew An He’s frail stamina couldn’t support a second use of her Innate Talent anytime soon.

So she drove leisurely ahead, then stopped to wait.

Gu Xianqing knew exactly how to lead An He along.

She made her curious, made her afraid, made her confused—but never gave her straight answers.

Then, she let her chase but never catch, flee but never escape.

Like an invisible leash: one end tugging An He, the other firmly in Gu Xianqing’s grasp.

Gu Xianqing had observed An He for so long. They met in every dream; she knew her every buried subconscious impulse.

So Gu Xianqing decided to be An He’s friend—caressing her cheek, offering help, making her dependent.

And her enemy—leaving wounds, drawing blood, breeding hatred. Teaching? Gu Xianqing didn’t believe in preachy words. Nothing etched deeper than pain and hate…

The figure behind chased two steps, then realized with fury that two legs couldn’t outrun two wheels. She wheeled around and stormed off.

Gu Xianqing stopped her bike and watched An He’s retreating back, blinking indifferently. She knew An He wouldn’t just walk away for good.

She understood too well how to manipulate humans. The most dangerous were always the most alluring.

Only when she appeared before An He as a mysterious, deadly foe—her sworn enemy—would An He desperately seek to understand her, draw close, and entangle in endless strife.

Gu Xianqing reveled in it.

She dismounted and eyed the distance to the Swamp.

Not far now. The distant puddles, robbed of sunlight, had been fully swallowed by darkness.

Deep blue descended; night was about to claim this land.

In her line of sight, Gu Xianqing alone lingered on the Wasteland. An He had left, the Ravens had vanished, and occasional gusts tousled her hair.

Gu Xianqing leaned idly against the bike, stealing a moment to press the wound at her waist.

It hurt through the leather. But so what? The pain she inflicted on others equaled what she took herself.

She waited patiently.

Half an hour later, the Wasteland roared back to life with engine thunder. Gu Xianqing looked up to see a familiar shadow emerging from the direction An He had vanished.

Gu Xianqing smiled—See? An He couldn’t bear to let me go. The little lamb had retrieved the abandoned bike and chased after her again.

…

Bang—

An He slammed straight into Gu Xianqing’s bike. The front wheel stopped just two centimeters from Gu Xianqing’s leg—a graze would have torn a massive gash.

Gu Xianqing didn’t flinch. She just crossed her arms and frowned. “Bikes are precious resources in the Wasteland, An He. Be gentle—it wasn’t easy to get.”

“Wasn’t easy?” An He’s eyes flashed with menace. “You left it on purpose?”

“Like it?” Gu Xianqing tilted her head.

An He realized she was being toyed with. “You fired that shot on purpose too?”

“Mm. How else to lure you to me?”

“If you wanted me, why shoot at Heidi?”

Gu Xianqing caught the flicker of rage in An He’s eyes at Heidi’s name. She pursed her lips, flashing a contemptuous cold laugh for the first time. “You really do protect your little friends.”

An He ditched her bike and advanced step by step toward Gu Xianqing. When the other had nowhere left to retreat, An He bent down and pinned her against the bike, pressing the knife’s hilt right into Gu Xianqing’s wound. “A warning: don’t hurt my companions.”

An He looked fierce, but to Gu Xianqing, it seemed like empty posturing.

Gu Xianqing felt the bike’s parts digging into her thigh from behind, while An He restricted her space—afraid she’d bolt. Those close-up pupils brimmed with warning, all for someone else.

Gu Xianqing narrowed her eyes. “Companions… I have no reason to hurt them. If I wanted her dead, that bullet would’ve been in her skull, not the frame.” Her expression chilled; her marksmanship came from Yan Qiong. In the Ninth Fortress, only Asta and Ide could match her.

Gu Xianqing looked down at An He and gently pushed her shoulder. “If I didn’t scare you, why would you leave her and follow me?”

The two fell silent for a beat, locked in unyielding standoff, gazes tangled, minds clashing like blades as they probed intentions.

“Are you taking me somewhere?” An He asked stiffly. She’d noticed: Gu Xianqing’s goal was to lure her. Once she followed, the sniper rifle stayed silent.

“Mm. Taking you this long to figure it out?” Gu Xianqing’s smile was gone, but her tone stayed that flippant dream-voice, infuriating An He.

“Where are we going?”

Gu Xianqing’s eyes narrowed, a near-dangerous allure bursting from their depths—mysterious, unfathomable.

Her fingertip pressed An He’s shoulder, slowly pushing her back. Then, in a soft, intimate murmur: “Taking you to see the true face of this world.”

…

They mounted up again. Plowing through the night, heading south.

An He trailed Gu Xianqing. She didn’t resummon her Nestsoul. Though she hated to admit it, Gu Xianqing had indeed ignited massive curiosity in her. At a time when she barely understood the world, no one could resist the devil’s invitation.

She knew full well Gu Xianqing was that devil.

And An He willingly risked it.

Unnoticed, the sand gave way to gravel flats, then waterlogged wetlands.

The terrain here shifted wildly. An He ventured this far for the first time, deeply feeling the eerie desolation.

The wind had color—gray-black grit forming currents that clawed at clothing seams, nostrils, and neck hollows.

The wind had taste too: rot-stench, mud-tang, scorched particles, all mingling with invisible radiation over the Wasteland.

The horizon blurred. In this vast expanse, only the two of them—good thing there were two.

Gu Xianqing was right at home racing the Wasteland.

Blind to smells and gusts, she drove steadily, even humming a little tune ahead.

An He noticed it differed completely from Asta’s whistle—gentler, slower melody, simple four-bar loop repeating like a lullaby.

An He had never heard it.

She finally broke the silence. “What are you humming?”

The wind must have carried the question, for Gu Xianqing abruptly stopped.

But she didn’t answer. For the next half-hour ride, she never hummed it again.

An He sped up, nearly riding Gu Xianqing’s tail. Mud thickened on the ground; their pace slowed unconsciously.

Soon, An He spotted unknown bones in the muck.

Bubbling sludge, alive-like, had swallowed most of the skeleton—only a skull protruded, empty sockets staring at An He, finally stirring dread in her.

Night’s unknown perils fully cloaked them.

Gu Xianqing pulled a flashlight from the front rack. The sudden white beam pierced the endless black.

An He breathed silent relief. She heard Gu Xianqing call ahead: “Stick to my path. Deviate a centimeter, and you’re dead. Got it?”

An He could only grunt in assent.

“Mm.”

“Finally stopped baring your fangs. Good girl.” Gu Xianqing laughed.

An He: …

The bike’s wide tires churned the mud not straight but in loops, doubling back at spots. Gu Xianqing navigated like a stroll in her backyard.

An He saw the tire tracks hit clumped soil, while either side was real quagmire.

She guessed an old road lay beneath, invisible now.

An He memorized the route in secret. If Gu Xianqing tried anything, she’d need to backtrack.

After who-knew-how-long, they were fully ringed by Swamp on looking up.

No living thing in sight—just crooked dead branches casting shadows, hung with corpses from afar.

It should’ve been dead silent. Yet beyond the tires’ sticky squelch, unnamable shrieks erupted—owllike, infant-wails, random bursts chilling the nape.

Moonlight occasionally flashed massive shadows at the horizon’s edge.

This was the true Wasteland—human-free zone.

Beneath the silent mud, lost souls without graves.

An He eyed the dark red ahead. For an instant, she realized Gu Xianqing might be like those souls—wandering here, belonging here. She moved freely on irradiated soil without a dust mask.

The thought unsettled An He. So when her peripheral caught a black shadow charging from the left front, she froze in judgment.

Gu Xianqing reversed fast, nudging An He’s wheel. As the bike toppled off-balance, a two-person-tall black shadow whooshed overhead.

In the plunge into mud, Gu Xianqing’s hand clamped An He’s wrist steady.

But this woman didn’t pull her up—instead, she spun An He by the waist, pinning her beneath, thoughtfully yanking her hood up just before impact.

Then An He’s entire back slammed into the sludge.