Chapter 39: Ninth Fortress Part 1

The Mines sat at the center of the fortress, their silhouette starkly visible even in the dead of night.

It stood silently, unmoving, with nowhere to run.

Led by No. 55 and No. 08, the ten operatives quickly reached Pit No. 2. The spatial teleportation Innate Talent saved them a great deal of time. What would have been a fifteen-minute drive, No. 55 covered in just two teleports.

They took only one minute.

According to Lola’s intelligence, the section of Pit No. 2 nearest the eastern side housed Ninth Fortress’s newest Underground Shelter. They had already studied the mine’s map, committing the layout to memory like the back of their hands.

No. 55 led the team and easily located the entrance to Pit No. 2. But when they tried the code provided in the intel to activate the blast door, they discovered the entire activation mechanism for the defense base had been completely overhauled.

This was outside their expectations, but no one was surprised—they had already realized after the previous battle that Ninth Fortress’s defense systems had undergone massive changes.

After a brief silence, someone quickly noticed the pristine, footprint-free dirt underfoot: “I think we’ve got the wrong spot.”

They had wasted two minutes here.

The entire team immediately shifted targets. Lola’s intel had mentioned an abandoned Defense Base No. 1 in Ninth Fortress. Though she had specifically noted it was no longer in use due to outdated defenses, she had still dutifully marked its precise location.

With her superhuman sensitivity to terrain and directions, No. 55 immediately led them to the old base at Pit No. 1.

They found plenty of evidence of recent human activity. The dirt bore chaotic footprints and cart tracks, as if supplies had been moved not long ago. The footprints had been crudely covered up, but no one fleeing in an emergency would erase every single one.

They followed the muddy path to the old base’s blast door.

No. 08 spotted a fallen, dirt-caked peanut by the roadside. She picked it up, examined it closely for a moment, then reached out and stuffed it into the rusted lock on the blast door.

This old base used a gear-based mechanical lock, perfectly meshed and sturdy—but equally primitive.

Though it required a code to activate, it was like a fossil compared to the biometric locks First Fortress had mastered.

Someone tried the code again. No response.

“Use the lock-breaking Mechanical Bee,” No. 08 said, relaxing her brow. The knife scar on her cheekbone smoothed out, stretching narrower and longer. “We don’t need to split our focus fighting enemies right now. We’ve got some time—get the High-Temperature Ray Cutting Gun ready too.”

“Got it.”

Having deployed with Captain Sora, they had inevitably picked up a few tricks. Sora was always one for multiple contingencies, and their superiors had anticipated the codes might fail. They lacked mass-produced heavy artillery, but they carried specialized tech tools from First Fortress.

The little manmade gadgets were unassuming.

But they were the key to seizing the fortress.

No. 08 stepped back, planning to first detonate the peanut shell to widen the lock, then deploy the Mechanical Bee and cutting gun.

…

A muffled explosion pierced the triple-layered metal blast door, shaking the entire mountainside. Dust rained from the mine ceiling, settling on faces and shoulders.

Low gasps fluttered like cicada wings, faint and subdued—no one cried out. Adults shielded children, children huddled by elders, frightened youths clamped hands over their mouths to stifle screams.

Lola stood silently beside Su Ling.

She watched Su Ling’s fingers leave the radio button on her shoulder epaulet, then unholster the gun from her waist. Su Ling wasn’t wearing her usual coat today; the simple shirt and work pants stripped away some of her everyday elegance. Dirt clung to her hair, and her eyes burned with grim resolve—three minutes earlier, Ide had informed her that the Iron Wall had fallen.

“Everyone, fall back,” Su Ling instructed.

Lola and the assistants obeyed her command at once. Despite the urgency, Su Ling’s voice remained steady. She flashed a reassuring smile, positioning everyone behind her and the Thorn Lamp logistics personnel.

But Lola still caught the ragged breath Su Ling took as she turned her head, the faint tremble in her gun-gripping fingers.

They were in a bunker-style defense base, flashlight beams casting cold white light on the walls. Three levels up and down, with a five-meter-high ceiling—deep enough for over a thousand people.

But packed with all the residents, it felt cramped and claustrophobic.

Soon, everyone retreated orderly to the rearmost section. In the shuffle, the miners, construction workers, and Steel Mill crew—hardened laborers like the largest pebbles sifted from a winnowing basket—silently positioned themselves at the frontmost layer. The children were gently passed to the lower levels.

No one ordered it. Su Ling hadn’t issued such instructions.

But they did it anyway.

After the explosion came the shrill whine of metal cutting—a sound familiar to the Steel Mill workers, the noise of metal being severed, reshaped, portioned.

But quieter and smoother than their machines.

The enemy had unknown tools.

“Lola.” Su Ling chambered a round, straightened her spine, and fixed her gaze on the blast door ten meters away. She called to her closest assistant: “Get beside me.”

Lola paused, drew her backup pistol, disengaged the safety, and took position next to Su Ling. She raised the gun in both hands, arms rigid, barrel steady on the front.

“This place is probably lost,” Su Ling said.

From learning of the Iron Wall’s fall to now, only three or five minutes had passed, and already the enemy was at the base’s perimeter. Everyone here knew things looked grim.

Even if Ide rushed over, it would take more than ten minutes.

On the battlefield, lives vanished in split seconds. They might not hold until Ide’s rescue—they had to prepare for a last stand.

“Mm.” Lola gave a curt reply.

After a brief silence, Su Ling spoke softly. “Scared?”

Lola didn’t grasp why Su Ling asked. Maybe when tension peaks, people crave conversation. She lowered her gaze slightly: “Not scared.”

Her voice wavered.

“Is that so?” Su Ling drew a deep breath. “I’m scared.”

At those words, Lola’s gun barrel quivered faintly. She steadied it with her other hand, eyes snapping forward, unblinking.

Lola thought Su Ling shouldn’t be scared.

This professor, who always gently reassured patients and wounded with “Don’t worry, don’t be afraid,” had just admitted fear. She’d calmly guided everyone to safety moments ago, bravely taking point.

But now, Su Ling said she was afraid.

The words hit Lola like a stone plunging into water.

“What are you afraid of?” Lola asked.

“Don’t know. Maybe afraid I can’t protect everyone.” Su Ling’s voice was faint, almost a murmur.

Lola fell silent, mocking Su Ling’s naivety inwardly while seething at it. Thorn Lamp folks, clinging to pipe dreams even now.

The sounds outside continued. If First Fortress’s generals stormed in with a full force, these three protective doors wouldn’t hold.

How could Su Ling protect everyone?

Lola’s gun barrel trembled again.

Just now, she’d lied.

A helpless, tearing sensation gripped her. She realized she might not get Su Ling out—not if she or An He had planned it. But Su Ling’s current state… she looked ready to stand or fall with Ninth Fortress.

She might not be able to take her.

In her daze, the feeling felt eerily familiar, like a half-remembered dream whose ending she couldn’t recall.

Two minutes later, the lock was fully destroyed—no dramatic cannon fire ripping the doors apart, as expected.

Just a fist-sized hole beside the lock.

No guns emerged from the pitch-black opening, no hands probed in—only a human eye, darting close to scan.

Su Ling and the Thorn Lamp members fired instantly at the hole. Bullets ricocheted off the circular cut, embedding in the nearby wall.

The next second, someone materialized inside the base.

Before anyone could process how the enemy had entered, successive explosions filled their vision. Dust erupted at Su Ling’s feet, forcing everyone back three steps.

Once the intimidation passed, ten figures stood with guns raised, flanked by various Nestsouls lined up like a row of small hills, blocking the crowd.

Nothing like Lola had imagined—no massive First Fortress army, no familiar officers. Just these ten comrades, every one in dire straits: singed hair from artillery, wounds piercing their bodies, faces taut, guns unwavering.

Lola felt puzzled. She’d assumed First Fortress had won decisively. Apparently not.

She’d also considered An He might maneuver between factions, arriving early to extract Su Ling. That hadn’t happened either.

Now, with An He and Ide absent, only she remained—the one who’d promised to protect Su Ling.

The standoff lasted about two seconds before Su Ling rallied the Thorn Lamp logistics for a counterattack. The front two rows of burly workers grabbed guns, forming an impenetrable human wall against First Fortress’s surviving soldiers.

But these ten displayed terrifying destructive power.

Explosions swept the cramped space again. Dust scattered by human hands became lethal shrapnel. Bullets ricocheted wildly in the confines—who knew if they were enemy rounds or rebounds off the blast door—tearing a gap in the Thorn Lamp line.

Lola felt someone collapse against her arm, sliding down without support. She didn’t know whose blood now splattered her face.

Any further, and it’d hit the civilians behind.

“Professor Su…” Lola dodged the blasts nimbly, trying to shield Su Ling somehow—but a massive shadow blotted her view.

A trumpeting elephant cry drowned the gunfire, echoing through the chamber.

Su Ling had summoned a Nestsoul amid the barrage!

It was indeed an elephant.

A robust one, nearing adulthood. Its back didn’t quite reach the ceiling—about three meters tall, not yet fully grown.

But it was mighty still: wrinkled skin like earth’s veins, pillar-like legs propping the sky, a muscular frame a rolling hill, heaven-forged. It reared up, tusks long and sharp enough.

It planted itself in the center, body intercepting the gunfire for Ninth Fortress’s people. Bullets pierced its thick hide, scarring the “cracked earth.”

It had been gentle once. Now, it raged.

A piercing roar shattered eardrums. Its long legs charged forward, tusks sweeping the oncoming Nestsouls—snakes, insects, tigers, leopards trampled, impaled. Those that dodged were flung by its trunk, only to charge back and bite.

First Fortress’s soldiers fell back, precisely Targeting the elephant’s forehead.

The battle raged on, mutual destruction hanging over them. Su Ling’s wristwatch ticked indifferently onward.

A bullet exploded past the elephant’s ear. Su Ling reeled too, blood seeping from her fingers clutched to her mouth.

In that instant, No. 08 halted the assault, exchanging a glance with No. 55.

Something unexpected happened.

Two enemies bypassed the behemoth, flashing beside Su Ling. With no room to spare, they pinned her arms and jammed a gun barrel to her head.

Lola’s heart skipped. She’d never seen these people, never known their Innate Talents. In the second she tried to protect Su Ling, they’d flawlessly circumvented the defenses and taken her hostage.