Chapter 69: First Fortress 21

Silence.

An He stood calmly before Gu Xianqing’s corpse, slowly tilting her head upward. Behind her, the black fog that had been spreading earlier slowed its pace but still churned like a storm, making her figure seem infinitesimally small.

Between heaven and earth, the gray desolation continued to devour everything—yet it paused briefly before An He.

The God remained silent for a long while before finally speaking again, Her tone laced with pity: “You’re accustomed to trading deception for gain. See? Humans’ deceptions are always impossible to guard against.”

“You seem to speak from experience,” An He replied. Then, she admitted generously, “Yes, I am skilled at deception.”

She didn’t expect the God to believe her sincerity so easily. Since the God could read minds, She had likely already discerned An He’s true feelings toward these polluted spores.

“But if you truly understand humans, you should know our loyalties are never steadfast. Offer enough benefit, and we’ll switch sides in an instant.” An He steadied herself. “That’s the complexity of human nature. How will you know without trying?”

“Are you that kind of person?”

“If that’s what you wish, I can be.” An He lowered her gaze, appearing utterly harmless, though her words were laced with probes: “Either way, I’m important to you, aren’t I? Because I’m a Cabin Cocoon, with your Divine Blood flowing through my veins. You want me to offer up my soul to you, don’t you?”

“Long time no see, and you’ve grown bolder.” The God sidestepped An He’s question.

Of course An He knew how she’d changed—her memory was sharp, and she recalled every exchange from their last illusory encounter.

After entering the First Fortress, she’d pieced together the God’s words and realized that those Cabin Cocoons—blended from human genes and Divine Blood—were her sisters, the very ones the God sought.

Did She want to control the Cabin Cocoons for Her own use, spreading this so-called “blessing” and compelling the people of this land to worship Her in some twisted way?

The danger lay in Sekhmet’s apparent ignorance; she still believed the Cabin Cocoons were a new type of human warrior.

An He pulled her thoughts back. The God’s repeated attempts to persuade her confirmed her own value—only those deemed important held bargaining chips.

“So, what’s your answer?” An He pressed.

“I need to test you, to prove you’ll obey my commands.”

“How?”

No sooner had the words left her mouth than a hazy figure emerged from the thick fog, its face obscured, indistinct and shadowy. The God posed Her challenge: “If, in the future, this person betrays me, do you have the resolve to kill her?”

Who? Another Gu Xianqing? An He narrowed her eyes, scrutinizing the figure. A loyalty test via murder implied someone vital to her.

Or Asta? Ide, maybe?

An He stepped forward, crossing over Gu Xianqing’s corpse toward the stranger.

Then she saw it was Vivian.

“You think Vivian will betray you in the future?” An He asked, mildly surprised.

No doubt about it—the God had discovered Vivian. An He didn’t know if She’d tried contacting the girl or how.

But using this scavenger kid for the test wasn’t whimsical. Had She foreseen a scenario where the Cabin Cocoons turned against Her?

If so, why keep trying to sway me? I’m the hardest to tame.

Unfortunately, the God wasn’t one to answer every question. She said: “If you can’t bring yourself to…”

“Rip—”

An He had already snatched up the rusty long spear from the ground and thrust it straight through Vivian’s heart.

Her expression remained unchanged, her movements crisp and decisive. Opposite her, Vivian’s clear eyes lost their light in an instant: “Sis…”

An He released the spear, letting her hand drop, subtly clenching her trembling index finger.

She and Vivian had only known each other a day; their bond wasn’t deep enough to hesitate.

Besides, it was just an illusion.

“Well?” An He looked up at the God.

The voice suddenly laughed—a dry, rasping sound, nothing like Gu Xianqing’s seductive allure.

“Very good. I can grant you your Innate Talent now.” The voice continued, “Open your eyes and behold this beautiful world.”

Puzzled, An He blinked reflexively—and unfamiliar fragments flashed before her eyes. Vine-like tendrils, ethereal as smoke, slithered into Lola’s trachea with her breath, then hardened, bursting out from her body!

What the hell?!

An He raised a hand to shield her eyes, but in half a second, the vision vanished. She gasped for air, staring in panic toward the path she’d come—Lola’s corpse from earlier looked exactly like that.

“This is the gift you sought: the Eye of Prophecy. You can glimpse any point in the future from now on, though your current power limits you to infrequent use and scant details. What you just saw was Lola, two years from now.” The voice explained curtly before asking, “Satisfied?”

Her tone brimmed with mercy, yet it grated like a funeral dirge.

Two years. An He’s mind buzzed. She activated the talent immediately, checking Asta, then Heidi—their deaths matched precisely what she’d seen.

Only now did An He truly grasp the God’s words: what she saw was the future.

They were all dead.

This wasn’t illusion or dream—it was the God showing her this barren future.

As expected, every word from the God carried immense weight. Did that mean her clash with her sisters was prophecy too?

An He whipped her gaze to Vivian’s still-standing corpse. Amid the fleeting prophetic shards veiled in blood, she recognized her own broken-and-healed knuckle scars on the hand wielding the weapon.

Whether from overusing the talent or not, her temples throbbed like they might split open. She glanced back at Gu Xianqing’s body, suddenly afraid to use it again.

What if her end is the same?

Maybe skip two years ahead.

An He adjusted the timeframe to ten years, then forty. Forty years on, if she saw Gu Xianqing roaring by on a motorcycle, that’d mean she was thriving, right?

But the scene barely changed: Gu Xianqing still lay on some unknown stone slab.

Even just forty years of sun and rain had reduced her to withered bones.

A torrent of overwhelming emotions crashed over her, suffocating. An He turned away slowly. If the Eye of Prophecy sowed despair about the future, it hardly seemed a wonderful or useful gift.

Lost in a daze, she reflected that the God’s deal had come too easily. She’d thought she held the upper hand. But every foe on this land was formidably strong; victory remained uncertain until the final moment.

Her throat began to ache faintly. She realized the God had fallen silent since she’d gained the talent—who knew how much time had passed.

The itch triggered a cough, the prickling burrowing into her chest. In her brief stupor, vast swarms of yellow spores had gathered around her in the air, inhaled into her lungs.

More spores swarmed joyfully, eager to seize her body and soul.

An He snapped alert, clamping her mouth and nose, stumbling back several steps.

So that’s it. The God had lulled her into laxity, shaken her will, and moved to claim her mind.

“Aren’t you going to follow me? Let me into your body—I need your soul.” The voice returned. This time, it whispered right against her neck. Before she could react, arms encircled her from behind, prying her hands away.

Gu Xianqing’s body had revived, launching an assault.

At the same moment, Vivian yanked the spear from her chest and closed in: “Sis, don’t resist.”

Don’t resist.

Lola, Asta—more familiar faces crowded in, grabbing her limbs.

Dead people reviving? An He nearly fell for it but quickly realized: This is the illusion. Prophecy and hallucination blended; those without resolve couldn’t tell them apart—they’d already gone mad!

An He stopped struggling. This time, she foresaw herself—three minutes from now, drowned in black fog, fully submitting. The God would merge with her, granting endless mental power and creation-level talents.

Not bad.

But Gu Xianqing’s warning echoed: Don’t accept it.

An He’s eyes flew wide.

Got it. The God had no physical form—She craved a vessel.

An He twisted her waist, seizing Vivian and activating Parasite in a flash.

Who says the Eye of Prophecy has no edge? If I don’t like the future I see, I can change it early.

“Use your talent,” An He commanded, her fingers tapping Vivian’s throat—the fragile windpipe pulsing under her grip. Under Parasite’s compulsion, Vivian unleashed her ability more fluidly than ever, striking multiple “living” targets with maximum force, silently.

An He finally witnessed firsthand how terrifying this Cabin Cocoon’s talent was. Every illusion wearing a familiar face erupted with blood from all seven orifices, joints twisting; she even heard the crisp crack of breaking bones.

One figure staggered and knelt, releasing her.

An He hesitated for a single second.

If the God had used her face, she’d shred it without mercy. But these were her friends’ visages.

If Gu Xianqing counts as one.

She couldn’t stop. Resolutely, she activated the talent again. Every illusion save Gu Xianqing perished in agony, blood and gore everywhere—even Vivian’s nose and mouth bled.

The Eye of Prophecy flared once more: useless. Killing them changed nothing; she was still trapped in the illusion.

The God’s methods were more cunning, more cruel.

The long-coveted black fog wall behind her advanced again, devouring toward An He like it did the land.

She was like an ant struggling for survival, grasping at any slim chance under the God’s control, even as countless simulations ended in failure.

An He released Vivian and lunged at Gu Xianqing, clinging tightly to the thrashing body before applying Parasite to her too—since Gu Xianqing’s talent invaded dreams, An He would let her invade fully, pitting dream against dream at full power!

The black fog finally overran her, the last patch of clean ground lost. Oxygen deprivation reddened her eyes, veins bulging across her body. Just like Heidi’s tales of the Strong Radiation Zone, the particles melted into her skin, burrowing into her brain. Soon, uncontrollable weakness set in.

At that moment, Gu Xianqing’s woven dreamscape bloomed from beneath her feet!

Verdant green—unseen for ages—spread like flowing river water. A lush grassland, every blade kissed by sunlight, clusters of vibrant wildflowers blooming in riotous color.

An He nearly laughed. This ruthless woman Gu Xianqing instinctively wove a fairy-tale dream?

The green surged outward.

But in her arms wasn’t the real Gu Xianqing. Three seconds later, the black fog forced it back, shrinking to a tiny circle barely supporting one foot.

An He gripped Gu Xianqing tighter as the dust fog closed in again.

Her breath-holding limit hit!

“Hah—”

An He pitched forward, gulping air, only for straps to block her. Sweat-soaked hair whipped her face from the momentum. Pupils dilating, she stared at the floor—and spotted a beam of light.

A lamp overhead bathed her; beneath lay clean, bright tiles.

Then, two pairs of shoes entered her view. Head bowed, peering through dangling strands, she saw Wen Yewang pacing excitedly: “Mental fluctuations hit peak levels—sustained for a full forty minutes! Damn near burned out the machine!”

An He stayed silent, fixated on Wen Yewang’s shoe tips.

“I didn’t ask about that. Did the antagonist work? End the anesthesia now—wake her!” Unexpectedly, Sekhmet’s voice cut in from nearby, low and grave.

“It’s working—her muscles have stopped spasming. She’ll be awake soon enough.” Wen Yewang walked toward the Saint Lord. “More importantly, Your Holiness, I wanted to tell you that she is a Cabin Cocoon. Look, she reacted to the spores from the God Blood Petri Dish. And her brain signals held steady with fluctuations—ordinary people can’t last even a minute before they give up resistance like puppets.”

Sekhmet suppressed her anger. “Didn’t I instruct you to delay the experiments until later?”

“Yes. Delay the dangerous experiments.” Wen Yewang emphasized the word dangerous, speaking without a hint of fear. “Right now, I only had her exposed to some spores, drew two vials of blood, and ran a few stimulating signals to test her mental threshold. All to confirm she has the strength to fight alongside you.”

Sekhmet fell silent for a long moment.

In An He’s line of sight, Sekhmet turned and approached her. An He slowly closed her eyes. Moments later, someone lifted her chin, gazing down at her.

“So, does Vivian have what it takes?” As expected, this was what the Saint Lord cared about most.

“Absolutely! Her physical fitness, body fat, and endurance stats are all top-notch.” Wen Yewang’s enthusiastic tone sobered. “But there’s something odd about her. When her mental power is stimulated, it hits peak levels. In a stable state, though, it’s only C-grade.”

“C-grade? That low?”

“Yes. Her Nestsoul is already incredibly strong—at least an A- or S-grade person could drive it.” Wen Yewang continued, “I suspect her ability was suppressed at the start, either deliberately or by accident. At the very least, her upper limit must be extremely high.”

Wen Yewang bent down, hands on her knees, scrutinizing An He’s face. “Maybe it’s a malfunction from exiting the Cabin Cocoon too early. Blame Gu Xianqing for snatching VN319 and then abandoning it. Who knows what that weirdo was thinking.”

An He sneered inwardly. Wen Yewang had actually bought her bullshit.

She slowly opened her eyes, meeting Wen Yewang’s gaze.

The Eye of Prophecy activated silently. A flash of Wen Yewang holding forth appeared before her eyes, then vanished. What a pity—three months from now, this woman was still alive.

No matter. Futures we know… aren’t they meant to be changed?

Fate was like a machine of interlocking gears and screws. Turn one screw, adjust one cog, and it led to an entirely different outcome.

All An He needed to do was lie low and wait for the right moment.

An He relaxed her clenched teeth. Her lip, bitten through from the strain, oozed a trickle of blood. The metallic tang filled her nostrils. Beneath her damp hair, her eyes blazed like torches.

Wen Yewang shivered for no reason. After just one nap, this woman seemed even more intimidating.

“Ah, you’re awake.” Wen Yewang beamed a greeting.

An He did nothing but offer a faint smile. “Yeah. I am.”

…

An He was gradually unbound.

This time, Sekhmet didn’t take a single step away. She watched Wen Yewang finish the tests and wrap up.

Only then did An He learn that Sekhmet had entered the Observation Room half an hour early, demanding Wen Yewang cut off the anesthetic immediately, halt the experiment, and shorten the checks.

The reason for the early arrival? Urgent intel from Min He—the Church Center in the First Fortress had suffered a horrific attack from Gu Xianqing. The bishop appointed by the Saint Lord had bled out and died. At the same time, the tower storing the Scriptures had been completely obliterated.

And the ammunition used? It came from a Patrol Squad outpost.

An He licked her lips. The bloody taste felt so real. While she was kissing Gu Xianqing, that woman had been out committing murder and arson?

Ha… she really deserves a thank-you, doesn’t she? If not for this emergency, the Saint Lord never would have come to stop Professor Wen.

“Wen Yewang, she needs to freshen up.” Sekhmet frowned at An He. “Then bring her to the Imprint Room.”

“What’s that?” An He asked.

Sekhmet paused, then decided to explain to An He. “If you want to stay by my side as a warrior, you’ll need Thought Implantation. Of course, I’ll respect your choice—you can refuse. If you agree, I’ll provide you with plenty of food and weapons. Your living conditions will be a hundred times better than on the Wasteland.”

As expected, life here was traded for food.

An He had come this far; of course she wouldn’t refuse outright. But she didn’t agree immediately either. “Will there be food?”

She asked with genuine feeling.

The day had been so long, her stamina depleted. She desperately needed to refuel.

Sekhmet rarely saw such a pure expression of need anymore. She softened her tone slightly. “Yes. Before you head into battle, I’ll make sure you eat your fill.”