Chapter 9 - Nothing Good Ever Comes of This

The roaring of an engine filled the air as the SUV hurtled along the narrow, treacherous mountain road. It swung around corners at breakneck speed, as though about to plunge off a cliff at any moment.

Han Qingyu desperately wanted to unleash a string of curses between the mechanical sounds and wild jolts.

Not just because the driver was barreling along like a man with nothing to lose, but also because of what lay ahead. He had absolutely no desire to go help with whatever this was, let alone be there at all.

They were clearly headed into a battle, but he could see no way he could contribute without getting himself killed.

Still, Han Qingyu had no way to resist. It was a truly wretched feeling to have one’s fate dangling in another’s hands.

Not daring to look at the road, Han Qingyu clung to the overhead handle with both hands. His entire body was nearly launched off the seat with every jolt, swaying and twisting inside the cabin, like a rope dangling in midair.

Despite only expending about sixty or seventy percent of his actual effort to hold on, he made sure it looked like he was using all his strength.

In the driver’s seat, Lao Jian wore a stern expression, brow furrowed and eyes locked on the road ahead. His hands, eyes, and feet worked together with swift precision, even as a quiet unease grew inside him.

They had struck within the vicinity of District 752 alone within just a matter of days—something practically unprecedented in the years before. Worse still, the call had come from a nearby concealed reserve station. A spindle-shaped aircraft had landed in the area around the station without warning. There were even suspicions that two had arrived together.

That was precisely why the station had sent out urgent requests for reinforcement from surrounding districts despite having already dispatched their own defensive platoon.

If it truly was two spindle-shaped aircraft against a single platoon... Lao Jian had no trouble imagining the brutality of that fight. The fact that it was near a reserve station just made everything worse.

The problem was that the coordinates the station had provided were actually quite far from the District 752 base.

This whole stretch around Fenglong Valley was already on the edge of District 752’s territory, and the coordinates were even further out. The lack of advanced warning meant only Lao Jian could reach them in time, as he happened to be in the area.

District 764 should be able to make it. Lao Jian tried to reassure himself.

In truth, though, it did little to actually help. He drove harder.

Although outwardly ordinary, the SUV was actually a powerful, military-use vehicle fitted with an advanced Mitelli engine. Lao Jian pushed the car to its limits, pressing constantly closer to the scene.

About twenty-some minutes later, the SUV braked sharply, stopping at a spot along the mountain’s edge that had no markings of any kind.

Lao Jian then spun the wheel hard and, to Han Qingyu’s startled bewilderment, drove the vehicle straight into the cover of a broad-leafed forest before coming to a stop once more.

“Out of the SUV. Up the mountain,” Lao Jian instructed.

Grabbing the equipment set with one hand and hauling the thoroughly dazed Han Qingyu up with the other, he ran up the mountain at top speed.

About halfway up the slope, they took a side route around to the back of the mountain and descended into a valley enclosed on all sides by overlapping peaks.

The going was genuinely difficult at times, but throughout the entire trek, Lao Jian never once put on the equipment.

“If you ask me”—Han Qingyu coughed, too busy fighting a mild wave of nausea to care about his tone—”why not just put on the gear and go alone? Bringing me along only slows you down.”

Like the last time they met, Han Qingyu was once again making a futile resistance. Nothing good ever came out of crossing paths with Lao Jian.

“The device can’t sustain for that long once it’s activated,” Lao Jian explained simply, still dragging Han Qingyu in a sprint through the valley.

After roughly another ten-plus minutes of running through the valley floor, Lao Jian came to a stop.

“We’ll stop here,” he said, surveying the terrain around them. “This should be about right.”

After calculating the distance and how long the device would hold, he turned to look at Han Qingyu, who had since collapsed on the ground.

“Now, I need you to do something for me,” Lao Jian said seriously.

So we’re not going to the scene after all. Han Qingyu quietly breathed a sigh of relief and looked up at him.

Lao Jian got to work, strapping the metal case diagonally across his back and inserting the four metal strips into the ports before reaching up to unbutton his shirt. He then pulled it open to reveal military-style tactical metal straps underneath. At the center of this rig, over his heart, was a circular iron disc with its own port.

“As you know, I was injured during that fight. I haven’t fully recovered yet,” Lao Jian said.

Han Qingyu asked incredulously, “So you’re going to sacrifice yourself?”

Inwardly, he thought, And if something happens, is that going to get pinned on me?

“It won’t come to that. I know you saw me get knocked through the air that night, but I’m actually... pretty tough.” Lao Jian managed a wry smile.

Time was short, so pointing to the port over his heart, he pressed on, “Basically, there’s a good chance I won’t be able to handle the energy surge that happens when this core port is connected and activated, and I’ll pass out.”

So that’s why he brought me along, Han Qingyu thought, and nodded.

“If I lose consciousness, don’t panic. All you need to do is take this”—Lao Jian bent down and tugged at one of the metal strips at the bottom of the metal case, then pointed to a port on his pants belt—“and connect it to this port for me. I’ll come around shortly after that.”

So even the brown belt was part of the connection system, just disguised to look ordinary. The port on the belt was positioned roughly at the left side of the small of his back.

Han Qingyu stared at it. “That’s the kidney, isn’t it?”

Lao Jian nodded, somewhat resigned. “That’s right.”

“Okay,” Han Qingyu said. “Just this?”

“Just this.” Lao Jian ran through it once by way of demonstration, then looked Han Qingyu in the eye. “Of course, you could also take the opportunity to kill me while I’m out. But don’t forget—”

“I know,” Han Qingyu interrupted. “Go ahead and connect it.”

He didn’t bother asking why Lao Jian didn’t simply connect the belt strip himself first. It was easy enough to reason out that a device like this almost certainly had to be activated in a fixed sequence.

“Remember. Don’t waste any time. We can’t afford a delay,” Lao Jian said, sitting down.

He shot one last glance at Han Qingyu before turning away, composing himself, and pulling the metal strip from the left-center port around to his chest. After connecting it, he used his fingers to rotate the circular disc once around.

Through it all, he stayed steady, without so much as a flicker of hesitation in sight.

Han Qingyu watched closely from beside him.

Click.

And then, more felt than heard, a low hum.

The pale blue crystal light inside the metal case on Lao Jian’s back flickered several times in a node-like pattern.

With that, Lao Jian passed out.

He toppled straight back without a sound. The whole thing was flat and utterly undramatic. He didn’t even twitch.

It reminded Han Qingyu of his chemistry teacher from his first year of high school.

The old man had been standing at the podium holding a test tube, adding reagents as he spoke.

“Just watch me do this one,” he’d said, “don’t try it yourselves, it’s dangerous. Add too much, and it could explode—”

Then, it exploded.

Different scenario, same energy.

There was no longer anyone capable of moving in the valley except Han Qingyu. Though, of course, those black armored machines were probably somewhere in the vicinity.

By all rights, this situation should have been tense, even terrifying, yet the absurd thoughts racing through Han Qingyu’s mind simply filled him with an inexplicable urge to laugh.

Said he’d pass out, and he passed right out... A man of his word.

Laughter threatened to burst out of Han Qingyu. He even had the wild impulse to leap up and let out a whoop. The person who had pressed a blade to his throat, forced him into this “enlistment,” and dragged him to this dangerous place was now flat on his back, unconscious and completely helpless.

Han Qingyu naturally wasn’t brave enough to kill him.

As Lao Jian had said, too many people had seen him that night, and his name was already in the system.

There were still other possibilities, though. For instance, spitting on him a few times, cursing him out, stomping on his face once or twice, grabbing a snake that wouldn’t kill him, and letting it bite him...

The nineteen-year-old, emboldened by all his bottled-up humiliation, let his mind run wild with these childish thoughts.

Suddenly, his eye caught a corner of the dark, muted metal case peeking out from behind Lao Jian’s back. Lao Jian mentioned that the case contained a source energy core. For Han Qingyu, a source energy core meant curiosity, longing, and an almost irresistibly enormous pull.

I’ll just take a look, he thought, stepping forward almost on instinct.

Han Qingyu snapped to his senses as his foot hit the ground. There was no way Lao Jian was really this unguarded and trusting. Perhaps he had marked the equipment somehow, or even faked passing out to test him.

Before connecting the metal strips, Lao Jian had deliberately checked his watch...

That sly bastard.

Reining in his curiosity and resentment, Han Qingyu moved over somewhat unsteadily, took the metal strip, and completed the connection for Lao Jian.

There was no difficulty whatsoever. Even a child could have managed it. The blue light in the metal case flickered again. It looked like it had worked.

But the man didn’t wake up.

He’s not dead, is he? If he’s dead, they’ll definitely pin it on me!

Han Qingyu was growing anxious. After another roughly two minutes with no sign of movement, he finally reached out and tentatively checked for breath under Lao Jian’s nose.

Nothing! Dead! It’s over! What do I do now? Grab the equipment and the source energy and make a run for it?

As Han Qingyu was wavering over his next course of action, the “dead” Lao Jian suddenly sat bolt upright, looked down first to check his watch, and then turned to glance at Han Qingyu.

“Thank you.” Lao Jian then bowed his head and connected the metal strip from the top-left port of the case to his right shoulder, then the strip from the right-center port to a lower position on the right side of his belt. “Looks a bit crude, doesn’t it? The integrated device has been under constant improvement. I hear the next generation is nearly ready. By the time you’re suited up, you should be able to use it.”

A small smile on his face, the fully equipped Lao Jian sprang lightly off the ground as if it cost him no effort at all. He then grabbed the knife with his right hand and slotted the cone-shaped dagger against the outside of his left thigh.

“I’m going,” he said.

“And me? Do I wait here, or can I head out?” Han Qingyu asked.

“No, you can’t just wander off.” Lao Jian thought for a moment, then smiled. “Oh, right, you’re good at lying in ditches, aren’t you? How about this? Find yourself a ditch somewhere on the hillside and keep your head down. Don’t move around, or you might get yourself killed.”

“Is there danger here too?”

“There shouldn’t be.” Lao Jian frowned in thought, then smiled again. “But nothing in life is ever completely safe, and your luck is terrible. Just in case?”

Han Qingyu was speechless.

“That’s settled then. Find somewhere to hide, and wait for me to come back,” Lao Jian concluded, swinging his arm in a brief wave, before turning and launching himself into the forest ahead.

It was as Han Qingyu had seen that night. His movements were blazing fast, and he moved through the mountain forest as if on flat ground.

***

Han Qingyu had found a ditch buried in a dense thicket of shrubs along the base of a low slope on one of the small hills surrounding the valley and was dutifully lying low in it.

He had been lying there for somewhere between thirty and forty minutes, feeling a vague sense of disorientation, when a pit viper slithered over. Acting quickly, he caught it and killed it.

Damn, good thing I’m not afraid of snakes.

The sky was growing dark.

He could hear nothing but the wind and the sound of insects. It was completely still.

Why isn’t he back yet? It’s been so long. Everything should be fine by now, right?

As Han Qingyu’s nerves were starting to ease up the tiniest bit, the sudden sound of fierce fighting came from the slope directly above his head.

Based on the sounds, the fight didn’t seem like the large-scale engagement of that other night. The two sides combined couldn’t have been more than two or three people.

However, to Han Qingyu, it made no difference. Any one of them could brush against him, and he would be finished.

What’s going on? Aren’t they all supposed to be going after the machines? Han Qingyu kept his head down and held his breath. I don’t understand, and I don’t want to understand.