[Can someone tell me what’s going on right now?]
[Where’s the streamer?]
[Is this the Xinhuo stream or Jing Ye’s stream? Don’t tell me Xinhuo’s team got wiped out?]
[Where is everyone? Where, where, where?]
The comments floated across the screen one by one.
Thanks to Wu Xiaomi’s earlier viral video and Huang Xiao’s identity as the Doomsday Newscaster, the livestream still had a decent number of followers.
Players from other regions weren’t in a Jing Ye-level crisis, so during their downtime, they couldn’t help but tune in to this “most desperate raid since the disaster began.”
[Don’t panic. The streamer’s in the room. They just switched to third-person camera mode,] an early viewer explained.
[As for the rest of Xinhuo’s team… see the place with the highest monster density?]
On screen, there was a spot where the mirror fiends were particularly concentrated.
[They’re surrounded— but they haven’t broken yet.]
Earlier, in a panic, the northeast wall had been busted open, leaving a massive breach.
By the time they realized the danger, it was already too late.
“Get back! Don’t go near the wall again! Shield team— move in!”
The gate, blessed by the Spirit of Abundance, was used as a makeshift shield to plug the gap.
But it wouldn’t hold for long.
These things could stack on top of each other.
Though they’d get bounced off the wall while stacking, causing them to tumble and fail— if they just brute-forced it with sheer numbers, sooner or later they’d climb their way up.
“Whew—”
Kang Jie and Ah Lei leaned their backs against the gate.
For a brief moment, things settled. The air felt strangely still.
“It’s so round,” Ah Lei looked up at the moon and smiled. “Makes me want a mooncake.”
“What filling?”
“Braised intestines.”
“…That’s a mooncake?”
“Specialty from back home. I’ll let you try it when we get back.”
“I’ll pass.”
Silence again.
After enduring so many shocks, most people didn’t even dare breathe loudly.
“Man, I miss food from home,” Ah Lei smacked his lips. “You can exchange anything through the bulletin board, but nothing tastes right. Only homemade stuff hits the spot…”
“What do you want to eat?”
“Roujiamo. Freshly baked crispy bun stuffed with flavorful braised pork and a few green peppers, finished off with a ladle of gravy… that flavor— mm.”
“You’re making me hungry just talking about it.” Kang Jie chuckled, sweat dripping off his chin. “When we survive this raid, I’ll cook you something.”
“You can cook?”
“No, but I can grill lamb skewers.”
“…Who can’t grill lamb skewers?”
“It’s different. You gotta know how to control the heat. Know what color means it’s done. Which ingredients need oil. Which ones need more time. Which less. It’s a science.”
“Aren’t you a teacher? How do you know all this?”
“From when I was a kid. Mm—”
Kang Jie pressed harder against the gate. His heels had already dug two small ruts in the dirt behind him.
“When I was little, in a field like this, we’d gather some random stones and grill corn and sweet potatoes with friends.” Kang Jie smiled at the memory, the corners of his mouth lifting.
“Heh. When I was that age, I was busy blowing up septic tanks.”
“Blow stuff up all you want. Eating’s a separate matter. One doesn’t stop the other.”
“You’ve got a strong stomach.”
“Hahaha—”
They laughed, then fell silent again.
“I told you you shouldn’t have brought them.”
Facing the panicked crowd, Ah Lei didn’t hold back.
He wasn’t part of Xinhuo. He didn’t care about appearances. Didn’t care about the furious glares around him.
“This bunch of cowards who can’t even face the main quest, still think they live in a peaceful society, just working, barely surviving.” Ah Lei sneered at the crowd. “Look, now they’ve dragged you all down with them.”
Everyone knew Jing Ye breaking through the defenses was only a matter of time.
Death was already knocking.
There was no way they’d make it through the night.
All thanks to that ragtag mob.
“You’re too naïve. That won’t get you through the apocalypse,” Ah Lei kept going. “People are different. You can’t save everyone. If they get left behind, it’s their own choice.”
“Meeting Wu Xiaomi was your luck. But luck doesn’t last forever.”
Kang Jie sighed lightly, letting Ah Lei scold him without saying a word.
Because he knew Ah Lei was right.
“There’s still time to change course. With Monsoon’s help, with the strength of Xinhuo’s core members, we could regroup and tighten our defenses. Then we might still see the sun tomorrow.”
“Kang Jie! Don’t be stupid! Make the call!”
Ah Lei shouted angrily into Kang Jie’s ear.
But Kang Jie stood there like a block of wood.
“Hey! What are you thinking—!”
“…”
“Light me a cigarette,” Kang Jie said to the nurse beside him.
The flame flared, then went out.
Kang Jie took a deep drag.
“There’s something I’ve been wondering, Ah Lei,” he exhaled smoke and looked at the man beside him. “What do you think Xinhuo means?”
“Hell if I know why you picked such a weird name.”
“No, I mean…” Kang Jie shook his head. “What is our Xinhuo? After billions of years of evolution on Earth, what’s the most essential thing we’ve inherited?”
“…”
“What’s the most precious, most valuable invention in all of human civilization?”
“…How should I know?”
“I don’t know either. But I think… maybe it’s something that goes beyond survival of the fittest. Something higher than the rules of devour-to-evolve. It’s the future we’ve brushed up against, but haven’t yet stepped into… and the one thing that sets us apart from beasts—the next phase of civilization.”
Ah Lei blinked, then suddenly had an epiphany:
“I get it— it’s black stockings!”
“…Of course not!”
“It’s boobs! Gotta be boobs, right?!”
“Damn it…” Kang Jie’s brain was twitching.
“What is it then?”
“I’m still thinking. I don’t know yet.” Kang Jie exhaled the last puff and flicked away the cigarette butt. “Maybe someday we’ll find out.”
Ah Lei frowned and thought hard.
He looked over at the other Monsoon members. “You guys got any ideas?”
“It’s gotta be Mai Sakurajima, right?”
“Could be Yua Mikami.”
“It’s definitely Anya! Anya all the way!”
“A Midsummer Y’s Dream.”
“…”
The most terrifying thing was sudden silence.
The rest of the Monsoon crew turned their heads in unison and stared at the brave soul.
Three seconds later—
“Yeah— Midsummer Y’s Dream!” “We live for Midsummer Y’s Dream!” “Aaaaahhh—!”
Their cheers were so loud, even the mirror fiends looked confused.
What’s going on in there—Chinese New Year or something?
Kang Jie’s brain twitched even harder.
Yep, serious philosophical questions should never be asked to Monsoon.
Thud. Thud. Thud—
“Shh—” Ah Lei motioned for everyone to quiet down.
As night deepened, something even more dangerous crawled out of the lake.
“Nurse An, take a look through the crack. What was that sound just now?”
Nurse An peeked through the door gap.
Her brows furrowed.
“Beast-faced tribe. Huge. Bigger than our wall.”
That big?!
That meant the shield they made from the door was now meaningless.
It could easily reach over the shield and grab the person holding it.
Thud. Thud. Thud—
The footsteps were getting closer.
“Sigh—”
Ah Lei let out a long sigh. “Not helping you in your next life, you damn deadweight. Should’ve made me the commander.”
BOOM!
A shadow dropped from the sky, and a massive spiked mace slammed into the spot where Kang Jie and Ah Lei had just been.
Kang Jie stumbled to his feet and charged the beast-faced creature through gritted teeth.
But the gap in power was too massive.
The beast-faced tribe lifted its foot and stomped down on him.
The crushing force made all the bones in Kang Jie’s body creak and crack.
“Looks like I really messed up.”
He smiled bitterly.
Messed up by not planning for every possibility.
Messed up by not accounting for their fear destroying the defenses.
Messed up by still not being smart enough. Not strong enough.
He’d already learned some hard lessons,
yet still made so many mistakes.
He swore he’d never mess up again.
But there wouldn’t be a next time.
In life-and-death gambles, there’s no reset button.
Crack—
As he felt his ribs shatter, blood welled up in Kang Jie’s mouth.
The defenses collapsed. Mirror demons surged in, grabbing the players’ arms and clothes, dragging them away.
Desperate screams filled his vision.
He remembered a post he once read on the forums.
The author had left it as their last message before jumping off a cliff.
“Maybe… we’d be better off dead. Freeze life at its fullest moment.” Kang Jie murmured, “In this endless death game… one day, we’ll collapse under the weight. Lose our loved ones, our lives, our feelings, our hope… until there’s nothing left…”
……
“But! Not today!!!”
A bolt of lightning crashed down like a blazing golden sun from the heavens!