Chapter 20: Ninth Fortress 20 Part 2

Gu Xianqing pinned her squarely, their breaths mingling for an instant. With her still-bloody hand, she clamped An He’s mouth and nose through the scarf. Somehow, the flashlight had clicked off.

They lay stacked silent. An He’s peripheral caught the tall unknown beast wheeling back.

“Hold your breath. No Nestsoul,” Gu Xianqing whispered in her ear.

An He’s eyes widened.

By faint moonlight, she saw the shadow bend in a grotesque pose—no shoulders, no joints, like a half-deflated balloon man twisting. Its oval headtop wrenched circles, then stilled, locking eyes with her.

An He couldn’t make out its shape, so her mind amplified the terror tenfold.

An He could hear her own heart pounding rapidly in her chest, as if it might transmit straight to Gu Xianqing.

One second, ten seconds, twenty seconds. When An He finally couldn’t hold her breath any longer, that black shadow finally straightened up, took large strides away, its stilt-like heels sinking into the mud, and vanished in an instant.

Gu Xianqing released the hand pinning An He down but didn’t get up.

“Bone Eaters?” An He asked in a hushed whisper, struggling to steady her breathing.

Gu Xianqing replied in a breathy murmur, “Bone Eaters don’t come to the Swamp.”

“Then what was that thing just now?!” An He’s whisper carried a slight tremble.

“Forgotten Radiated Creatures.” Gu Xianqing remained lying on top of An He. The muscles in her forearm relaxed—no longer tense—which meant the danger had passed. But Gu Xianqing showed no intention of getting up.

“Can’t we move?” An He asked innocently.

Under An He’s puzzled gaze, Gu Xianqing patted her face with a clean hand. “Your body fat percentage is too high right now. Not gonna lie, it’s pretty comfy lying here.”

“Get off!” An He’s eyes darkened in an instant as she growled low.

“Fine.” Obediently, Gu Xianqing stepped onto An He to swing a leg over the motorcycle.

As she stood, she even wiped the edge of her boot on An He’s jacket.

An He finally realized—Gu Xianqing had used her as a mat. Her entire back was caked in mud, while Gu Xianqing only had filth on her boots and pant legs. Her body and face bore only bloodstains, no mud.

Gritting her teeth, An He reached down and felt beneath her.

The spot where they’d fallen was cleverly chosen—Gu Xianqing’s calculation. The mud was only a centimeter deep, with hard-packed earth below. That’s why they’d lain there for so long without sinking into the Swamp.

“Filthy.” Gu Xianqing glared down disdainfully. “When do you plan on getting up?”

An He was furious—this woman actually had the nerve to call her filthy.

She stood, yanked off her sodden hood in one swift motion, and shoved a handful of foul-smelling mud into Gu Xianqing’s chest.

The two locked eyes in mutual fury.

“You’d better not fall asleep tonight,” Gu Xianqing threatened, shaking the filth off her body. She had no intention of arguing with An He right now.

She glanced quickly into the distance. “The Radiated Creatures are very active tonight. We can’t push forward in the dark. We’ll rest on the motorcycle and move at dawn.”

An He righted her bike. Gu Xianqing took two steps back, aligning her own bike alongside.

The patch of hard earth here was fairly wide. Gu Xianqing dimmed the flashlight to a faint glow and hung it on the handlebar.

The motorcycle’s kickstand was sturdy. Gu Xianqing swung her leg over the front, lay back with her head toward the rear along the bike’s body. She looked like she really intended to rest.

She can actually sleep like this!

An He eyed the darkness beyond the faint light circle warily. Her eyesight was good, but outside that glow, the blackness was so thick she couldn’t see her hand in front of her face. The weak moonlight was drowned out by the flashlight, turning everything into a foggy haze.

An He couldn’t sleep. She remained straddling her bike upright. “That thing won’t come back, will it?”

“It might.” Gu Xianqing pillowed her head with her hands behind it, utterly unconcerned. “If it does, we’ll hide again. That kind of thing doesn’t have great eyesight or hearing. Play dead and you’re fine—just don’t get grabbed.”

An He swallowed hard. “The Radiated Creatures you mentioned—are they people, or something else?”

“Everything.” Gu Xianqing gazed at the sky, speaking leisurely. “Anything you can imagine exists. But they’re no longer human.”

“Why?”

Gu Xianqing paused for a second. The smile faded from her face as she slowly recounted ancient history. “After the Dark Ages, human society erupted into fierce intercontinental wars. Due to all sorts of radiation and chemical weapons, the people and animals living on this land gradually underwent severe mutations. Bone Erosion Disease was just one type that spread widely. Decades later, some newborns came into the world covered in blood tumors, without nasal cavities. Two heads or three legs counted as mild symptoms.”

An He held her breath.

“These people’s conditions weren’t contagious, but in an era of dwindling resources, they were gradually treated as monsters and driven from habitable zones. Afterward, they lived in the wilds, their offspring growing stranger with each generation—you probably don’t know this, but those black granules humans find so pungent are their lifeline, the medicine that eases their pain and sustains them.”

“So that’s why there are none around the fortresses?”

“Under normal circumstances, they don’t enter human activity zones.” Gu Xianqing was in a rare explanatory mood, her tone even. “But for a time, their offspring were brought back to habitable areas and kept by humans. Once humans realized their immense destructive power…”

“They could be domesticated? How?”

“Human greed can turn anything into a tool.” Gu Xianqing paused, skipping over that part. “But later, they were discarded again. Just like many creatures humans domesticated and then abandoned first when disaster struck—cats, dogs, zoo lions and tigers, even fellow humans. Isn’t that right?”

Gu Xianqing let out two ambiguous chuckles. “But the main reason they were discarded? They were uncontrollable. An He, uncontrollable weapons are destined for abandonment.”

Her tone sounded like some strange prophecy.

“Is this the cruel world you wanted me to see?”

“This?” Gu Xianqing said. “Nah, just ran into it on the way and figured I’d explain. Most fortress residents these days are clueless about them. New generations are only taught from birth not to enter the Withered Forest or Swamp—these things exist only in their mothers’ scare stories.”

“Then how do you know?” An He studied Gu Xianqing by the faint light.

“I’ve read books.” Gu Xianqing shot her a glance, teasing, “You haven’t, have you? Illiterate?”

An He swallowed her retort. You’re the illiterate!

Gu Xianqing was deliberately dodging. If fortress residents didn’t know this history, even reading fortress books wouldn’t reveal such details.

Gu Xianqing not only knew their origins but also how to deal with them.

An He couldn’t help suspecting she’d stolen it from someone else’s mind in a dream.

The topic ended there. Gu Xianqing had no intention of elaborating.

An He’s gaze drifted involuntarily to Gu Xianqing’s face. The light was too far; her expression hid in shadow, unreadable.

Lowering her eyes further, An He saw the bloodstains on Gu Xianqing’s waist clothing had begun to coagulate and harden.

“Doesn’t it hurt?” An He blurted out unthinkingly. Her Wrist Blade was twenty centimeters long—it should have pierced Gu Xianqing’s guts, yet she acted like it was nothing.

“It hurts.” Gu Xianqing’s words drifted into the night air, a soft murmur. “Only pain makes me feel alive.”

An He couldn’t tell if it was true.

After Gu Xianqing fell asleep, An He didn’t dare relax for a moment, staying vigilant around them.

Alone in this unfamiliar place, she was on edge like a frightened bird—every tiny sound kept her alert for ages. Gu Xianqing, however, seemed accustomed to such situations and slept deeply. An He couldn’t help wondering: Does this woman ever feel afraid like I do?

She glanced at that fox-like seductive face. Gu Xianqing had no doubt invaded someone else’s dream, toying with another victim.

The tense night left An He dizzy and foggy-headed by dawn.

Gu Xianqing woke refreshed, started the engine, and they pressed on. They hadn’t reached their destination yet.

They rode south for half a day, finally exiting the Swamp. Then they gunned it for a long stretch, skirting three pitch-black rivers. As the fuel ran low, Gu Xianqing finally slowed. “We’re here.”

They stopped atop a brownish cliff, a sheer drop of hundreds of meters below. Gu Xianqing’s front wheel kicked loose a stone, which tumbled down the precipice.

An He’s eyes followed the pebble downward—and she saw a vast, utterly different plain.

Like crop circles in a wheat field, a massive circular wall scarred the scorched plain, spanning twenty kilometers east to west. From ground level, it would be impossible to see the full scope.

This was a fortress.

Utterly unlike the Ninth Fortress, this one was ringed by a kilometer-wide belt of living greenery—trees that were alive.

Farther in lay what appeared to be unimposing wire fencing. Inside sprawled a city blending opulence, decay, precision, and squalor, bursting into view before An He.

Gu Xianqing took a pair of antique bronze binoculars from her bike and handed them to An He.

Through the tiny lenses, An He saw things she hadn’t glimpsed in ages: skyscrapers piercing the clouds, lush green lawns, bizarre large sculptures, even rubber tracks.

But everything differed from her memories.

The closer to the center, the taller the buildings. They had an eerie symmetry—some like hands reaching for the sky, others like uneven coral reefs. Skyscrapers’ glass windows formed dense grids from afar.

Most striking was the central High Tower—a circular steel spire thrusting into the heavens, gleaming silver-gray. Rotating outer walls spiraled upward like stairs to the tapered tip.

Surrounding buildings clustered like attendant courtiers. Suspended tracks evoked roller coaster rails, weaving around the cold towers into a colossal complex. The outermost fence tightly encased it all.

Novel, yet the architecture was old.

An He could see the tracks were mostly broken, the High Tower’s body caked in dust and rain stains, weird dark-purple moss creeping unchecked. The farther from the tower, the more dilapidated.

“This… is the First Fortress?” An He lowered the binoculars and turned to Gu Xianqing.

“Yes.” Gu Xianqing stepped beside her. “People used to call it Mother City, after the earth mother.”

Mother. An He mouthed the word silently.