Chapter 65: First Fortress 17

Gu Xianqing’s hand-to-hand combat skills proved even more formidable than she’d shown last time. In a close-quarters strike, she swiftly and precisely wrenched An He’s left shoulder.

As An He winced in pain, Gu Xianqing sprang to her feet and vanished along with the last glimmer of twilight.

Night fell completely, deep blue darkness claiming the land.

A chilling warning echoed from the distance: “Just you wait! You’d better sleep with your eyes open tonight.”

An He clutched her arm and climbed to her feet, in no doubt about the threat’s sincerity. She could feel that Gu Xianqing was truly furious now—whether over her deception or that slap, she couldn’t say.

The sting of being used and deceived felt awful, especially after they’d been comrades traveling side by side during the day, only to fall out by night.

An He felt a faint, subtle pang of regret—for the fracture in their fragile camaraderie.

But soon, that negligible twinge was swept away by the thrill of sweet revenge for a great grudge!

Hadn’t Gu Xianqing done the same? She’d just declared in front of everyone, “If she’s hurt, it pains me,” only to injure her with her own hands moments later!

Hypocrite!

All fake sentiment!

Lies upon lies!

An He let out a satisfied huff.

No matter what, she’d made Gu Xianqing taste the bitterness of betrayal too.

As for tonight’s dreams and whatever torment Gu Xianqing might unleash…

That could wait. An He planned to stay awake as much as possible.

Everyone had heard Gu Xianqing’s threat.

But the words landed differently in their ears than in An He’s—no match for the deterrence they held for her.

The soldiers on site were gripped by bewilderment and anxiety. Most had never even seen Gu Xianqing before and had no gauge of her strength. Now, though, they had a stark comparison: An He could take down two Bone Eaters single-handedly, yet Gu Xianqing had escaped unscathed from An He’s onslaught—without deploying her Nestsoul or using her Innate Talent on the spot.

The contrast made Gu Xianqing’s prowess crystal clear in their minds.

How many of them could stand against her? None.

Most couldn’t even solo a Bone Eater.

The imagined terror amplified with that threat, peaking the moment Gu Xianqing evaded the pursuers and slipped beyond the Shell Membrane’s edge.

The panic she’d sown would linger over them like a dark cloud for a long time.

An He clutched her arm in silence, yanked the Holy Sword steady from the ground where it was planted, scooped up the rifle that had been kicked aside, and returned to the Shell Membrane’s edge. The Bone Eaters hadn’t fully retreated yet—soldiers were still fighting desperately to drive them off—but An He had no intention of rejoining the fray.

Her martial display was over. Next came the silent duel with needles hidden in cotton.

That was the most dangerous part.

Her rough hempen garb had been torn to shreds in the fight by Gu Xianqing, exposing An He’s true face. Pain drew fine beads of cold sweat from her forehead, trickling down her cheeks, her features fully bared to Sekhmet’s scrutiny.

An He ignored Sekhmet’s probing gaze. She didn’t need to report the battle like the other soldiers. Her cover was a Cabin Cocoon abandoned by Gu Xianqing in the Wasteland.

She and Gu Xianqing had aligned their story’s origin: Five years ago, Gu Xianqing stole VN319 and dumped it in the Wasteland.

This unusual Cabin Cocoon had survived out there thanks to its exceptional combat prowess. And it harbored a lingering grudge against Gu Xianqing.

This identity knew nothing of superiors or subordinates.

An He had no need to fear or revere Sekhmet.

So she tore a strip from the hem of her sackcloth and began tending her wound on her own.

The severe bruising and abrasions on her left arm throbbed, but An He kept her expression calmly wooden.

Then she eyed the remaining cloth strips, approached Tina, lifted the woman’s wrist, and started bandaging her—for Tina’s forearm bore a deep gash exposing bone, courtesy of Gu Xianqing that afternoon to test if Tina was a Morgue product.

The verdict was obvious. Tina’s ulna gleamed black-gold—clearly not normal human bone.

This once-arrogant Captain was a walking corpse.

Sekhmet had stepped down from the armored vehicle. She saw An He’s actions and naturally glimpsed the fleeting wound on Tina’s arm. The Saint Lord glanced indifferently at Tina, betraying no emotion, but her gaze on An He sharpened with wariness.

An He continued bandaging, seemingly unperturbed by the odd injury.

In truth, she was fighting to steady her racing heart—from tension, from excitement.

Every tiny, imperceptible detail was a laid trap. Now, she waited for a massive prey to step into her web, one careful stride at a time.

In those few seconds, she’d already clashed with Sekhmet. The Saint Lord, like her, hid all emotion beneath her skin, every move precise and restrained.

This sense of facing a formidable foe didn’t spark retreat in An He. On the contrary, she relished the challenge!

Right now, key figures from two of the First Fortress’s secret projects stood under the Saint Lord’s nose. An He eagerly anticipated her reaction.

Sekhmet’s response was exceedingly subtle. She ordered everyone to push back the Bone Eaters with full force—even committing the fortress-defense armored vehicles to the front lines. All personnel rushed forward.

In effect, she, An He, and Tina were left alone in the rear.

A private space for conversation formed.

Sekhmet extended her hand. “The bandages—give them to me. I’ll do it.”

That hand bore countless old scars, its gradually wrinkling skin and marks evoking the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, forged by years into unshakeable power.

An He paused a beat before handing over the cloth strips.

Sekhmet began bandaging Tina. Her skilled technique marked her as a veteran of the battlefield. She unraveled An He’s sloppy wrapping and rebound it neatly.

At the end, Sekhmet reached out and touched Tina’s face.

What a pity. That high-spirited general is gone forever.

Tina merely stared blankly at Sekhmet, her gaze drifting past the Saint Lord as if toward the infinite cosmos.

An He felt a flicker of surprise. Sekhmet wasn’t as indifferent to her subordinates’ fates as she’d imagined.

In fact, she caught a faint sigh—but it evaporated like an illusion the moment it met the air.

A closer look revealed the intimate gesture perfectly blocked An He and others’ view—Sekhmet still had her agenda. No one saw Tina’s wound. Even if they had, they could pass it off as before, trading Tina for alloy bones.

Without her prior reconnaissance, An He would have missed it entirely.

Just as An He relaxed a fraction, Sekhmet spoke over her shoulder, back turned: “Do you know her?”

What?

An He thought Sekhmet addressed her and looked up—only to spot a ring on the Saint Lord’s right wrist protector glowing.

And the flashing part faced her directly.

An He jolted inwardly. A comm device? Pointed at her the whole time?

Had she shown anything odd while Sekhmet bandaged?

No, she shouldn’t have.

Soon, Wen Yewang’s exaggerated voice blared from the ring: “No idea—who is she? So unique! Bring her back, let me take a look!”

The tone suggested Wen Yewang wanted to claw her way out of the comms and drag An He off.

“This… what?” An He furrowed her brow in confusion. “There’s a voice.”

Sekhmet made no effort to hide it. Right in front of An He, she summoned a holographic screen, Wen Yewang’s over-the-top expression filling it.

It was indeed Wen Yewang.

An He’s gut clenched, her nerves taut as a bowstring.

Originally, Wen Yewang’s absence was a boon—giving her time to earn the Saint Lord’s trust before any interference.

But now, Wen Yewang had her in her sights. Likely since the flock of Ravens appeared, Sekhmet had looped her in.

An He couldn’t afford carelessness. This woman’s judgment was pivotal.

It decided if she’d be valued… or strapped to a dissection table.

It also decided her bet with Gu Xianqing—who’d initiate that kiss first.

An He figured, given their current friction, if they actually kissed, Gu Xianqing might bite her tongue off.

She can’t stick her tongue out. I have to stay on the defensive.

An He reined in her wandering thoughts, glanced once at Wen Yewang, then stepped away from the screen, feigning discomfort at the fervor.

“What’s your name?” Sekhmet finally asked An He.

“No name.”

“Hm? Then how do others call you?”

“No others. Just me, alone.” An He lifted her eyes, her gaze devoid of strong emotion, not one for many words.

At least, that’s how it appeared.

After a brief silence, An He added as if recalling something: “Though… Lola gave me a name. Vivian.”

Then: “And before, someone called me VN319.”

Sekhmet and Wen Yewang both flashed shock—Sekhmet swiftly masking it, while the woman onscreen grew even more agitated.

“Who called you VN319?” Sekhmet’s voice turned gravely serious.

“The one in red clothes.” An He said, “Only once. Then she abandoned me and left.”

An He’s info came in scattered bits, all critical. She played ignorant, answering only when prompted.

Wen Yewang could barely contain herself: “VN319’s alive! I’m checking the old corpse logs right now!”

The body had melted, of course—no trace. But the corpse-handlers’ researchers would’ve left records.

An He stayed unflustered. That corpse was fake; the real VN319 lived on—as her sister, no less.

It gave her ironclad confidence, rendering Sekhmet’s scrutiny moot.

Wen Yewang signed off briefly. Sekhmet turned to casual chat with An He.

“How’d you meet Lola?”

“Don’t know her.” An He said. “Ran into her in the Swamp. She gave me food, asked for help.”

“What help?”

An He nodded at Tina. “Bring this person here.”

In An He’s tale, the failed spy Lola fulfilled her duty at the last, escorting Tina from the Ninth Fortress. Naturally, given the Fortress’s defenses, Lola took heavy wounds.

En route, Lola encountered VN319 in the Wasteland. They spent half a day together.

Monster attack hit. Wounded Lola handed the naive Defector the task of delivering the person.

Lola’s fate: unknown.

An He wouldn’t spill it all—just key pieces for them to assemble.

From her observations, Sekhmet lacked Lie Detection or similar Innate Talent. In the First Fortress, a weak combat ability couldn’t prop someone to Saint Lord.

She could fabricate freely.

But Sekhmet’s caution was innate; she probed deeply. “What does Lola look like?”

“Uh.” An He tilted her head. “Didn’t notice much. Two eyes, one mouth.”

An He truly couldn’t describe Lola’s features.

Not a lie—Sekhmet didn’t press. But anyone who’d met Lola could improvise. Sekhmet spoke again: “How do I know you’re telling the truth?”

An He noted the heavy suspicion. Even after all this, Sekhmet doubted her identity.

Quick on her feet: “She told me a lyric. If you all mean to harm me, recite this.”

“What?”

An He cleared her throat, mimicking Lola’s cadence: “Valvien’s Heroic Spirit, swearing on life, shall forge dawn with courage.”

Sekhmet’s eyes narrowed instantly, crow’s feet spiderwebbing from the corners.

“You live in the Swamp?” Sekhmet pivoted abruptly.

“Nearby.” An He stressed. “Right by the Swamp.”

Sekhmet side-eyed her. “You can survive a place like that?”

“Are you talking about me?” An He pointed at her own nose. “I have food, bugs, and prey from the swamp. They go by sound—I’m really good at hunting them.”

An He looked calmly at Sekhmet. She noticed Sekhmet’s pupils contract instantly, her eyebrows twitching upward just a fraction.

It was only for a moment—a genuine flash of surprise.

……

Sekhmet was indeed shocked.

Prey from the swamp? Radiated Creatures?

The “Vivian” in front of her spoke of it all so casually.

Her words seemed scattered, but every sentence carried heavy information. She had even revealed a weakness of the Radiated Creatures—something Sekhmet had never verified, but it rang true enough.

This person was exceptionally skilled at fighting Bone Eaters, after all. She truly knew how to hunt.

Sekhmet scrutinized An He once more, carefully.

An He accepted the examining gaze without flinching.

Her face was filthy. After two days and a night with only one hour of sleep—during which she had tightrope-walked at high intensity, scaled walls, and fled for her life—dark circles had piled up under her eyes. The exhaustion showed naturally now that she had relaxed, no pretense needed.

From yesterday until now, she had eaten only half a piece of bread. Her hunger and thirst didn’t require any acting either.

Sekhmet narrowed her eyes, piecing together the events from An He’s rambling words.

She had initially suspected this was a spy sent by the Ninth Fortress.

But the Ninth Fortress couldn’t possibly know about VN319—even Lola and Tina were in the dark. Not to mention the passphrase as proof. Unless someone from the Heroic Spirits Society had spilled it themselves, few knew it was a lyric from a song.

Sekhmet had also considered the possibility that this person was an accomplice of Gu Xianqing.

But she had witnessed the two fight with her own eyes. The vicious intent in their clash couldn’t have been faked, and she had never heard of Gu Xianqing having any accomplices. Sekhmet dismissed the idea of collusion.

So? Could a Cabin Cocoon survive in the Wasteland?

Without some fluke, Cabin Cocoons were nurtured in Sealed Boxes until age fifteen. Until today, no one knew their potential—they had never seen a successful example.

Yet this “Vivian’s” number of Ravens was exactly the outcome their experiments had aimed for.

With such an Innate Talent and Nestsoul, surviving in the Wasteland might not be so impossible.

The Wasteland was riddled with dangers, and “Vivian’s” recent performance had fully demonstrated reflexes honed on the edge of life and death—she must have escaped death countless times, teetering on the brink. That couldn’t be faked.

Too many details lined up, each one packed with information.

This wasn’t something you could cobble together with a spur-of-the-moment story.

Sekhmet wavered.

An He caught the shift in Sekhmet. After so many standoffs with Gu Xianqing, she had developed the habit of missing no clue, however small. The slight relaxation at the corners of the Saint Lord’s eyes let her breathe a little easier.

“VN…” Sekhmet paused, then corrected herself. “Vivian.”

An He looked up. The Saint Lord seemed about to give some order—maybe take her back for a lie detector test, or to probe her abilities. Whatever it was, at least the first step hadn’t aroused suspicion.

But then, disaster struck. Wen Yewang’s grinning face—with her eight teeth on full display—popped up on the floating screen again. She had finished checking the records and returned.

At the same time, Min He, who had gone to pursue Gu Xianqing, came back to report.

An He’s heart, which had just settled, leaped back up—right when the Saint Lord was starting to ease up, the two people she feared most appeared simultaneously, interrupting her conversation with the Saint Lord.

Now it was one against three. She was truly in peril.

At that moment, the Wild Dog caught a familiar scent and barked furiously at An He!