Chapter 41: Ninth Fortress

“So, there really was such a project?” An He’s army knife slammed into the pipe beside her, tearing a jagged gash in the metal.

“What’s it to you?” Tina’s expression turned strange, her face deadly serious.

In the few short seconds of their exchange, the fight never paused. They darted left and right in the narrow pipe crevices, their feints and strikes weaving into a bizarre, contradictory rhythm—neither willing to kill the other outright before sizing them up, yet striking with lethal intent all the same.

Both harbored doubts, yet each hungered to seize the advantage, like beasts encountering each other on the vast savanna, baring fangs in a cautious yet bold standoff.

An He had her lines rehearsed, but before she could speak again, Tina beat her to it, looking down from above with a cold sneer: “Don’t tell me you’re about to claim you’re a test subject from that project?”

An He: …

Hold on—my line got preempted.

This woman was no pushover.

An He swallowed her words. She’d gleaned two key pieces of intel: the First Fortress had indeed considered increasing Nestsoul numbers—at least at one point.

But from Tina’s reaction, the project never launched. It might not have even been greenlit—just a half-baked idea scrapped due to any number of issues, completely and utterly abandoned.

Tina’s attitude left no room for doubt.

She’d even preemptively shut down An He’s plan to opportunistically press the advantage.

Even seeing An He’s flock of Ravens, this high-ranking officer hadn’t rashly pegged her as a First Fortress test subject.

That meant Tina had ironclad reasons to reject the notion. Why?

Lost in thought, An He took a sword slash. Tina’s combat experience outclassed hers by miles. While dodging and racking her brain, An He inevitably caught a wound.

The blade carved from her shoulder down to her left bicep. Not fatal, but a brutal warning.

Pain. An He gritted her teeth, brazenly pressing the conversation anyway with an ambiguous retort: “What if I said yes?”

She needed more intel.

Tina’s expression grew even stranger, as if she’d heard some absurd tall tale. She glanced at An He with hesitation, saying nothing—but not holding back either. Fresh cuts bloomed on An He’s body.

Yet An He subtly noticed Tina’s strikes slowing, ever so slightly. This captain was pondering, probing how much truth lay in An He’s words.

“You’re impossible.” Tina’s gaze hardened swiftly. Her sword whipped into an airtight flurry, even fiercer than before. “The project’s proponent died over thirty years ago. The test subjects are still in stasis—no word of any going missing.”

A jolt of terror ripped through An He’s mind like lightning. She latched onto the horrifying implications in Tina’s words. If the project never started, where did dormant test subjects come from?

And more than one?

Could these be the “sisters” God mentioned?

But confusion lingered. If none had gone missing, who was she?

She teetered on the edge of a secret, only to pull back the curtain and reveal an even greater enigma.

An He tightened her grip on her knife. While evading, she dissected Tina’s wording with laser focus—like countless Raven heads pondering in unison. A proposal from over thirty years ago—Tina hadn’t even been born then! Tina’s offhand “heard” suggested the captain had no direct involvement, no deep knowledge of the details.

An He resolved: I have to visit the First Fortress myself.

Blades clashed in close quarters, sparks flying as Tina’s killing intent thickened.

This forced An He to revise her plans yet again.

For a fleeting moment, she’d considered recruiting Tina like she’d done with Lola. But two fatal flaws dashed that.

First, An He had tasted Tina’s fighting style: ruthless, sharp, tactically versatile, no mercy. Without long-term trust, recruiting someone like that was impossible.

Tina lacked Lola’s exploitable weaknesses. In experience and resolve, she towered over An He—honed by years of rolling in the dirt and blood.

Never underestimate time’s forge.

Plus, this captain wielded a mental Innate Talent. If An He kept talking, her clumsy deceptions would look childish to Tina—and leave her vulnerable to mental talents forever after.

Second, this was war.

If the First Fortress won, An He could just surrender and pledge loyalty—no need for recruitment or disguise.

But the tide favored the Ninth Fortress. Thorn Lamp held the numerical edge in the factory; Asta was a stabilizing anchor, a guardian whose mere presence reassured everyone holding the line.

An He didn’t want the Ninth Fortress to lose—didn’t think it would.

So, long-term, what good would recruiting Tina bring?

None.

A defeated Tina would either die or be imprisoned as a bargaining chip between fortresses. Imprisonment was the last thing An He wanted—uncontrollable variables like joint interrogations with Lola. An He couldn’t risk entanglement.

She abandoned the fantasy, facing reality.

To her, Tina was a massive threat. She couldn’t let her escape clear-headed.

Countless lives stood between them. An He had slain several First Fortress test subjects; Tina wouldn’t forgive that. And Tina’s war had cost the Ninth Fortress dearly—An He couldn’t betray Thorn Lamp by letting the tiger return to the mountain.

They were locked in mortal enmity.

An He’s mind raced at full throttle, nearly burning out.

But no breakthrough came. This was her first time cornered so utterly, without allies.

Meanwhile, Tina observed An He’s shifting demeanor. Seeing the change in her eyes confirmed it: no ties to the project or First Fortress.

Even if any, they were negligible. This woman’s bearing screamed different—no First Fortress soldier’s polish, still green, eyes holding confusion and weakness unbecoming their warriors.

Plus, she’d just killed Tina’s trusted aide. No doubt an enemy aligned with the Ninth Fortress. Did they steal and raise a test subject?

No reports of any missing.

Or… Tina frowned. With these flying Nestsouls—did the Ninth Fortress start experiments too? Fakes to pass off as genuine?

Hard to believe their backwater tech could pull that off.

Both saw through each other wordlessly. No more talk—their judgments aligned: not allies.

Tina swung her Holy Sword, the blade grazing An He’s scalp. An He ducked behind pipe cover, evading the deadly stroke. Tina didn’t relent, sweeping horizontally with unstoppable force—like slicing tofu.

Her Holy Sword was peerlessly sharp, forged not of refined steel but meteorite ore, a First Fortress relic. The duct split open, belching residual hot air. They plunged into scorching illusion, hair nearly singeing.

An He’s eyes darkened.

The hot-blast stove hit a thousand degrees at full tilt—they were lucky it was paused, the pipes cooled. Still, near-ninety-degree winds sapped their skin’s moisture fast.

More slashes unleashed blasts of hot air, condensing into mist. The cramped space turned sauna.

In the fog, Tina summoned her Nestsoul. The White-Forehead Tiger joined her, driving An He back. Simultaneously, Tina unleashed her Innate Talent “Mental Imprisonment.” An He’s mind froze, neural signals to her limbs severed. Movement grew agonizing, even lifting an arm demanding iron will. Her disconnected Ravens scattered chaotically.

This differed from how Tina used it on allies—like a cage slamming shut on her consciousness. Cold sweat beaded on An He.

Tina closed in, silver-white Holy Sword pressing her chest.

At the brink, An He sensed keenly: unlike No. 1’s “Talent Nullification,” hers hadn’t failed—just dulled perception.

Not nullified—there’s hope!

An He lunged forward, grabbing Tina’s sword knuckles as the tip pierced skin. Blood flowed. In Tina’s stunned gaze, An He exploited the opening, deploying Mycelium to Parasite and briefly halt her.

Almost forgot—I have a mental Talent too.

But no long-term fix; her mental power lagged Tina’s. Same-type clashes favored raw strength. Once mobile again, An He activated Shatterblade Time to retreat, withdrawing her flock.

This skirmish revealed: wounded Tina still outmatched her. No head-on wins—time for a detour.

An He’s gaze flicked to the White Tiger.

In a flash, Gu Xianqing’s words echoed: Nestsouls can be killed!

Yes— the Nestsoul! Kill it, end the crisis.

Easier than fighting Tina directly—no suicidal risks.

Plus, its death would scramble Tina’s brain into chaos—ideal for capture, denying clear testimony, buying An He opportunities.

Target locked: the Nestsoul.

An He fled the hot duct, vanishing into the iron framework. Tina lost her position, holding her Talent.

Weaving through steel, An He gazed at the familiar, rugged gear, recalling Asta’s recent patient lesson: Nestsouls in blind spots are sitting ducks for snipers.

She needed to lure the White Tiger into one.

An He excelled at heeding advice—and learning fast. Time to apply the fresh lesson.

Slippery as an eel, she darted amid cooling furnaces and scales. As Tina hesitated to pursue, external Ravens pecked at her eyes. Up close, their damage exceeded expectations—wounds tore open, beaks embedding in flesh, tormenting both her and her Tiger.

Tina’s killing urge surged; she’d risk it all to end An He first.

Chasing amid towering machines, they splashed like droplets, trailed by tinkling ricochets—Bullet’s bullets hammering steel. Explosions wrecked spiral stairs, a cutter, and sintered ore piles.

Trivial losses for the Iron Smelting Plant.

Shattered ore hung midair, then rained dust, blinding Tina. Her White Tiger, swarmed by Ravens, veered elsewhere—but she could still track it, easing her mind.

An He’s flock had scattered from her.

The “youth” had ditched her Nestsouls and vanished.

An He hadn’t. Backed against railings, she’d leaped in the blast’s chaos, snagging a bar, coiling legs, and vaulting to the second-floor walkway’s undergirders—a ceiling gap like a bat’s perch.

Before her: steel beams propping the balcony. The White Tiger loomed below, between two machines, masked by pillars.

Seconds to act.

An He shouldered her rifle, cheek to stock, Targeting. A Raven dangled dead in the Tiger’s jaws. But she had endless Ravens; it had one Tiger!

Bang!

The bullet screamed forth with icy killing wind!

An He ejected the shell, firing three more in rapid succession.

The moment Tina made her move, An He tossed aside her gun and leaped down from the support frame. Shatterblade Time activated in an instant!

At the same time, Tina locked onto An He. The familiar Mental Imprisonment ensnared An He’s mind once more. This time, the “cage” confining her spirit began to contract, squeezing her consciousness like a pair of iron hands.

An He’s skull throbbed with splitting pain. Her eyes filled with blood, and her temples pulsed wildly. The good news was that she had now entered her Innate Talent’s time.

An He’s resolve was unprecedented. She forcibly resisted, fighting to reclaim control of her body. Driven by sheer survival instinct, she pushed beyond her physical limits. Her internal struggle caused her body to tense unconsciously. Fresh blood poured from old wounds, her muscles stretched taut like a drawn Longbow, and her clasped hands gripped the military knife’s hilt, driving it downward with vicious force.

She steadied her motion!

The White Tiger had no time to dodge. Under the cover of steel, the descending blade tip arrived almost simultaneously with Bullet’s shot, piercing straight through the White Tiger’s skull.

Splat! Spraying blood splashed like scalding ink, leaving a vivid crimson painting on the nearby cooling furnace.

The Mental Imprisonment clinging to her mind held for two seconds before vanishing. In its place, Shatterblade Time surged back like a tidal backlash. The surrounding scene slowed even further than before—even Tina’s wide-eyed stare was decelerated several times over. An He could even see the minute movements of her pupils tugged by the eye muscles.

Her Shatterblade Time had grown even more refined.

Those splattered blood droplets floated like raindrops, drifting slowly through the air. An He watched them, peering through the bloody curtain to see confusion in Tina’s eyes, followed by agony as she clutched her head in pain.

An He summoned one last breath and staggered forward, slamming two heavy fists into Tina’s face.

These were for Gu Xianqing, even if she didn’t know the reason.

Then, An He yanked the military knife from the White Tiger’s skull and plunged it into Tina’s shoulder.

This stab was for the fallen warriors of the Ninth Fortress. They hadn’t even had time to tally the casualties, but in the battle beyond the Iron Wall, Tina and No. 1’s one-sided slaughter had cost the Ninth Fortress some precious Thorn Lamps.

It was an unforgivable war. The Ninth Fortress had paid a heavy price—one that the near-total annihilation of the First Fortress couldn’t offset. This was the enemy reaping what they sowed.

The wound Tina had inflicted on An He still bled. With her objective complete, her body finally succumbed to the bone-deep pain. She could almost feel the bullet lodged near her heart throbbing in time with it, each beat slower than the last. Maybe it’s an illusion, she thought. Maybe not.

With her final strength, she pressed the military knife horizontally against Tina’s throat.

The Captain’s mind had suffered massive damage. She stared motionlessly ahead, lost in profound confusion and torment.

The blood beads drifting in the air finally plummeted. Shatterblade Time ended completely. An He seized Tina’s wound, and mycelium burrowed into her flesh.

“Tell me, Valvien’s Heroic Spirit—what comes next?”

Tina’s thoughts descended into chaos. This Captain, who never retreated even at the end, hung her head as if gazing down at An He—or perhaps into the endless void. Though controlled by An He, the words from Tina’s lips came out garbled. It took An He a long time to realize Tina was singing a song.

It was a tuneless melody, more like a prayer poem.

An He pieced together fragments from Tina’s mouth: “the gates of the Heroic Spirits’ hall,” “souls shining, immortal light,” and other broken phrases. Only then did she realize Lola’s initial probe had come from song lyrics. Piecing it together, she obtained the next line.

“Valvien’s Heroic Spirit, swearing on life, shall forge a brilliant dawn with courage.”

An He was utterly spent.

She didn’t deliver the final slash. The knife clattered to the ground, bounced once, and fell still. Then, she and Tina collapsed together.

An He had no strength left to rise. Her battered body felt as heavy as if filled with lead.

Urgent footsteps echoed in her ears. She heard Asta shouting something—it sounded like they’d successfully intercepted the remaining enemy forces. The Iron Smelting Plant’s gates swung open, and a crowd of blood-soaked people rushed in from outside, calling her name.

The long night was ending. These blood-drenched fighters had defended the Ninth Fortress.

An He blacked out completely.

…

It felt like sinking into a pool of warm, pristine water. The pain, the gunfire—all vanished. Gentle splashes kissed her cheeks, washing away the blood caked on her face and erasing her exhaustion.

The profound comfort stirred longing in An He. For a moment, she was reluctant to open her eyes and face the unknown fate.

But soon, she snapped awake from the reverie, eyes flying open as she warily scanned her surroundings.

There were splashes—real ones. Hot water droplets landed on her underclothes, seeping into her unscarred skin. An He realized she lay in a large white bathtub. Sunlight streamed through a vent window, draping her like a delicate, translucent golden veil.

Like a dream.

It was a dream.

Her wounds were gone, no longer bleeding. Her weapons and the dark factory had vanished. None of it made sense.

An He turned her head and spotted a clear glass bottle on the nearby high stool, holding a single fiery red rose.

It wasn’t the only red in the scene. Another splash of it lounged on a chaise nearby.

Gu Xianqing swayed lazily on the chair. Seeing An He awake, she tilted her head with a gentle smile. “Is the water temperature to your liking? I figured you could use a hot soak right now.”

This was the first time Gu Xianqing had used her full scene-construction ability on An He. In that moment of eye contact, countless emotions flickered in her gaze: awe, admiration, anger, heartache, and a touch of regret.

An He didn’t reply, but her tensed muscles eased. She slid slowly down the tub, letting the warm water lap over her neck, cheeks, and hair.

The soothing heat enveloped her, weaving the most relaxing dream.

“Don’t drown yourself,” Gu Xianqing said.

A moment later, tiny bubbles rose to the water’s surface.