Chapter 53: First Fortress 5

“Can’t open it.” An He drew her military knife and approached the cylinder. She didn’t think anything alive was hiding inside—the ravens on watch here hadn’t heard any suspicious noises, and she’d been keeping an eye on the area the whole time.

An He held her breath and tugged the pull ring on the cylinder. The cabinet door didn’t budge. She tried to stay calm as she asked Lola, “What are you worried about?”

“Before the full evacuation of District 21, this whole area—including this square building—was an outsourced outpost for the Research Institute. You know that, right?” Lola said.

No, I don’t.

But An He nodded anyway.

No wonder the buildings in this zone were so tall. Some had been damaged, but it was clear this used to be a bustling district. So District 21 must have been the “back garden” of the Upper City. Gu Xianqing hadn’t chosen this place to stir up trouble for no reason.

Seeing An He pull at the cabinet door, Lola subtly stepped back a little farther. “These silver cylinders are Sealed Boxes. I heard everything here got shipped out back then, but I only just learned they left these boxes behind.”

The whole building had been relocated intact, not looted by Scavengers—that explained why it was so empty, without a scrap of trash left behind. An He had seen offices ransacked by Scavengers: unwanted desks and wires piled in chaotic heaps. Not like this pristine state.

An He’s gaze swept toward the cylinder where Tina had hidden. That one’s cabinet door had been open from the start; she’d crawled in and checked it herself—nothing inside. She speculated, “That means these things were abandoned, right? Otherwise, they wouldn’t have left them here.”

Lola let out a breath of relief. “I think so too.”

“What’s inside that’s making your face look so grim?”

“Hard to say. Could be anything.” Lola replied. “If you’d seen how these cylindrical Sealed Boxes looked when they were dug up from underground, you’d know how disgusting the scene was.”

An He’s movements paused. Dug up from underground? Not something made by the Research Institute?

She noticed the pull ring in her palm was still ice-cold. Even after holding it for so long, the heat from her hand hadn’t warmed it. This wasn’t metal—it was some unknown material, beyond what people could make now.

An He yanked her hand back. “So you’ve seen a dig site?”

“I spectated once,” Lola said.

“What was inside?”

“After opening, it was a pool of blood.” Lola’s throat bobbed involuntarily at the memory, her stomach churning. “No idea what it originally held, but by the time we undid the locks, whatever was inside had turned into a puddle of rotten meat. The stench was unbearable—the guy who opened it reeked of decay for three straight days. We thought it was human remains at first, but there were no bones. Couldn’t tell what creature it came from.”

As she spoke, Lola took another small step back.

An He followed suit, stepping back too.

No wonder Lola’s expression was so complicated. That kind of scene stuck with you forever.

“Are there a lot of boxes like this?”

“Plenty. They’re all relics from Ivyen City,” Lola said. “They’ve dug up all sorts of weird stuff from the lands outside the Shell Membrane too—most of it got shipped to the Research Institute.”

An He was surprised at first, but she quickly accepted this unusual fact. The entire Hamir Plains were the ruins of Ivyen City, traces erased by the yellow sands, but things underground lingered. It made sense they’d unearth something.

The first time Gu Xianqing brought An He here, she’d warned her: the people of the First Fortress knew little about Ivyen City—even the Shell Membrane’s mechanisms were half-understood. The old inhabitants of this ancient city were long dead, and newcomers groped around like blind men touching an elephant, using the relics while fumbling to reverse-engineer ancient tech.

It was no easy task.

The toolmaker was like someone stacking building blocks, knowing each piece’s purpose.

But the user only saw the tool’s surface. Without a manual, it was impossible to guess the function of each component inside a fully assembled TV.

An He’s mind wandered. After scanning the Sealed Boxes left and right, a wild thought struck her: “These things… they weren’t coffins back in the day, were they?”

Lola’s expression eased a bit. “We guessed that too, but from what I heard, what they pulled out wasn’t consistent—some were just lumps of meteoric iron.”

An He: Got it. Blind boxes.

She looked them over again. The Sealed Box Tina had used was spotless. An He figured the staff in this square building had handled these boxes at some point, but for some reason, they hadn’t taken them when evacuating.

The strangeness piqued An He’s curiosity. For a moment, the urge to open one surged in her mind.

Especially after hearing this was a Research Institute backup outpost—the impulse strengthened.

She had to crack one open.

An He stepped forward, her fingers sliding over the door. The so-called Sealed Box was perfectly sealed, its lock broken but the gears inside jammed tight—only brute force would work.

“You’re opening it?” Lola asked.

“Yeah. Close your eyes if you can’t watch.”

An He wedged her military knife into the seam. With a slight pry, she felt the blade hit its limit—any more pressure and it’d snap.

No good. The Sealed Box was too tough; she needed something harder.

Something hard… She had it right on her back! An He’s eyes lit up as she swiftly unslung the Holy Sword. She’d seen this blade slice through a hot-air duct like nothing.

When Lola saw An He casually using the Holy Sword as a crowbar on the Sealed Box, her eyes went wide. “Ah, that…”

She never imagined the sword symbolizing honor would be used as a pry bar.

An He didn’t see it that way. Even the most exquisite tool was meant to be used. She worked along the pull ring, located the lock, and bore down with all her strength. After three tries, the cabinet door popped open a crack.

Drawing from Lola’s experience, they both pinched their noses. But no overpowering stench poured out—instead, a strange medicinal smell wafted free.

The gap was narrow; the box’s interior was pitch black.

They waited, but nothing tumbled out.

An He mustered her focus and leaned in closer. She flicked on her small flashlight, shining the beam through the tiny crack. It swept the spacious interior, and she spotted something unusual.

Red, lace-like membranes crisscrossed the empty space, somewhat like a spiderweb but not made of fine threads. An He stared—it felt familiar. Moments later, it hit her: it resembled the membrane around a chicken egg.

At a glance, it could trick the eye into seeing signs of a corpse. But closer inspection revealed no blood or Skeleton Frames.

It was empty.

An He felt a twinge of disappointment. This was an abandoned Sealed Box—nothing valuable inside.

With the danger cleared, she prodded the membrane with the sword tip to fish some out. But before the blade even touched it, the stuff dissolved into blood.

Lola’s bad memories flared; she stumbled back three steps.

The material seemed to oxidize—whether from air contact or something else, it began to degrade, releasing a nauseating rotten odor.

“We should get out of here,” Lola urged. She didn’t want that smell clinging to her for days.

“Alright, let’s go.”

An He gave the bizarre contents one last glance before hurrying off with Tina.

They really couldn’t linger in District 21. Once the Patrol Squad officers dealt with the Bone Eaters, they might circle back.

…

Exactly 3:00 a.m., Babel Tower’s hidden floor.

A lone researcher sat in the fully sealed Observation Room, reviewing detection reports.

Moments later, she picked up a tool to defog the glass—the temperature difference between inside and out had condensed water droplets and frost. As the automatic scraper activated, beads of water inside and ice outside were wiped away.

Outside the Observation Room, a panoramic view of the secret Research Lab slowly emerged.

It resembled an arc-shaped bomb shelter, with alloy ceiling and floor. The temperature had dropped below -200°C; all lights were off, save for red emergency lamps.

Countless cylindrical Sealed Boxes stood neatly arranged against the walls in two rows. These had never been hauled to the surface. Unlike the silver ones dug from the plains, these gleamed with an eerie black sheen, their locks tightly secured, exteriors rimed with frost.

No one moved in the Research Lab—only the occasional drip of water echoed.

The Observation Room’s LCD screen displayed the status of each Sealed Box. The researcher checked meticulously.

Spotting two or three red dots amid a sea of green, she recorded efficiently: “Boxes No. 2, 33, and 171 have died off. Temperature and humidity still not optimal—needs prompt adjustment.”

Leaning on the desk, she glanced at nearby Box No. 2. Its locked body had auto-popped open, blood-red liquid seeping from the gap.

She hit the corresponding button. The floor beneath several boxes depressed, channeling the blood away via grooves. The emergency lights on those boxes winked out one by one.

This batch was waste too.

“So many dead already,” the researcher sighed. She pulled out her pocket notebook and jotted the numbers. Flipping back as she stowed it, she saw ten full pages of densely packed sequences.

Twenty years on the job, and she still couldn’t preserve this batch effectively. Professor Wen Yewang believed research meant devoting one’s life to conquering a single challenge, but if the Saint Lord asked, it would be hard to explain.

Frowning, the researcher pondered better preservation methods as she retreated to the elevator. She swiped her work card, scanned her fingerprint and iris before it finally descended.

Observation was tedious—every six hours, she had to check. Next entry: 10:00 a.m.

…

Exactly 4:00 a.m.

An He finally reached District 17.

The so-called Lower City encompassed Districts 2 through 20, hugging the Shell Membrane. Exposed on the vast side of the Hamir Plains without mountains for cover, these areas had been prime Bone Eater targets in the early days before the Shell Membrane fully activated. Ability users had pulled back to more defensible spots.

Over time, these zones became havens for the poor and thugs.

The night before, An He had gotten a site map from Gu Xianqing. Her memory was sharp—even dream-seen blueprints stuck. It was clearly Little Bit’s handiwork: messy with mixed colored pencils, barely legible. No clue where Gu Xianqing had swiped the colored pencils for her.

Gu Xianqing’s relayed words: Their old outpost was on the third floor of a residential building—walls knocked through, beds set up, stove ready, even wired for power. Paradise!

When An He and Lola arrived, they were dumbfounded. None of it was there.

Lola shrugged and slumped against the corner wall. “District 17 has the most gangs. Leave stuff unguarded here, and it’s gone by morning.”

That explained it.

Little Bit’s crew had been gone half a month—supplies left behind would be a miracle.

The spot’s location was decent: surrounded by tight-knit residential blocks like barracks, perfect for hiding or fleeing. Lola had holed up here to recover for that reason—finding her would take time.

An He helped Tina sit. “In a couple days, I’ll bring stuff down from the Upper City.”

“No need,” Lola refused. “I can scrounge my own supplies.”

“Sounds like you’re a pro.”

“Yeah.” Lola clammed up on the topic.

An He stood and scouted the place. “Lola, I’m crashing for forty minutes. Wake me then.”

“Forty minutes?” Lola blinked. “You haven’t slept all night, drove two days straight—you can rest longer.”

An He lay against the wall. “Nah, just forty.”

Lola was speechless. “Never seen anyone time their naps so precisely.”

An He forced herself into sleep.

The First Fortress’s dream-block on Gu Xianqing centered on a two-kilometer radius around Babel Tower. An He had to seize this Lower City window for another meeting.

They’d agreed last night: once settled, sync up with Gu Xianqing, grab the detailed Research Institute route map. Entering the fortress had taken longer than planned—An He had no time to dawdle. She was late.

Dawn was breaking. No telling if Gu Xianqing was dream-wandering now.

Unexpectedly, Gu Xianqing arrived the moment An He fell asleep. She crossed her arms, her face full of displeasure, and loomed over An He as she demanded, “How long do you plan to make me wait?”