Chapter Bonanza (3/5)

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

“Sleep a little longer,” Qing Jiyue said after a long while.

“Mm-hmm.” Tong Zhanyan didn’t refuse because even as he spoke, his head was already spinning violently.

Earlier, they had been hiding in a crevice in the mountainside. The mountain was surrounded by forest, and although it was midday and the temperature was high, the temperature inside the crevice was only around forty degrees.

Now they had set up a makeshift sunshade right in the woods, and since many were in poor condition and had fainted, they hadn’t ventured very deep into the woods. The sunlight was beating down almost directly on them, and the temperature was at least fifty degrees.

It felt to Tong Zhanyan as if the blood inside his body was constantly evaporating.

Closing his eyes, Tong Zhanyan tried to clear his mind, but his consciousness kept being swept away by the intense heat.

After an unknown amount of time, when his throat had been baked dry and was aching, he finally succumbed to exhaustion and drifted off to sleep.

Qing Jiyue listened to his steady, deep breathing and watched his cheeks, which remained pale even in the intense heat, his brow furrowing slightly. Having lived on the fringes of the protective shield since childhood and possessing far richer combat experience, he should have been the one protecting Tong Zhanyan. “You should get some sleep too,” Yang Hong said.

It had been seven or eight hours since they’d emerged from the illusion. Yang Hong and Wang Yanzhou had already slept for a while, but Qing Jiyue hadn’t closed his eyes even once.

“No, thank you,” Qing Jiyue declined.

“You’re pushing yourself too hard,” Wang Yanzhou said. In these conditions, it was essential to conserve energy at all times, and Qing Jiyue should be well aware of the consequences of pushing himself too hard.

“I’ll take the 4:00 p.m. shift,” Qing Jiyue said calmly. He wasn’t trying to prove himself: “You guys can take the night shift—I’ll sleep then.”

Ning Langdong and the others weren’t awake yet, and even if they woke up in the next few hours, they couldn’t move any further today.

Moving around carelessly in this state would be dangerous—what if they encountered a strange beast?

Yang Hong and Wang Yanzhou exchanged a glance, said nothing, and closed their eyes one after another, determined to make the most of the time to catch some more sleep.

Qing Jiyue withdrew his gaze, scanned the surroundings, and then turned back to Tong Zhanyan.

In the hallucination, after passing through the forest and reaching an open area, he turned around only to find Tong Zhanyan gone. At that moment, it felt as though someone had clenched his heart so tightly it had stopped beating—as if it were about to be crushed to pieces.

That caused him to lose his composure; he practically rushed back to the woods immediately. He searched along the path, but there was no sign of him anywhere.

He had to prepare for the worst…

Almost the moment that thought crossed his mind, he spotted a bloodstained piece of clothing in the woods, just off the path they’d taken earlier. It was Tong Zhanyan’s—he recognized it at a glance—and that only made him even more frantic and anxious.

He searched like a madman, but even if he had nearly razed the entire forest to the ground, he still couldn’t find him.

Yang Hong and the others came to find him, their eyes darting about as if they wanted to say something but held back. They wanted to persuade him to stop; since they hadn’t come looking for him for so long, Tong Zhanyan had likely already been taken by the beast.

He refused to listen, searching frantically as if he’d lost his mind.

He shouldn’t have brought Tong Zhanyan out. It was his fault that Tong Zhanyan had been harmed; he was supposed to protect him, yet Tong Zhanyan had vanished right under his nose…

He was filled with immense remorse and regret. He wished it had been he who died. For a split second, he actually entertained that thought—then he wouldn’t have to live with the guilt of losing Tong Zhanyan right under his nose.

It was only then that he realized something was wrong.

Tong Zhanyan was sitting behind him; he kept a constant watch on his surroundings and on Tong Zhanyan—he couldn’t let Tong Zhanyan slip away.

And even if Tong Zhanyan had really strayed from the group for some reason he didn’t know, knowing Tong Zhanyan as he did—and given his personality—he couldn’t have just been swallowed up by something without a trace.

He would definitely fight back; even if escape were impossible, he would fight to the death—

Once this thought occurred to him, he spent all his time trying to figure out how to escape the illusion. During that time, he even tried using pain as a trigger, but it was completely useless. He remained trapped in the illusion for a total of seven days.

It wasn’t until the fourth day that he realized what was happening; for the rest of those days, he kept trying to figure out a way out.

Unable to break free, he eventually began to wonder if he had gone mad from being unable to accept the loss of Tong Zhanyan. Then, just then, the world suddenly began to appear double, followed immediately by those fireflies.

He realized almost immediately what was happening.

He turned around immediately, but before he could get a clear view, something behind him plummeted to the ground.

He instinctively reached out to catch it, but his body, affected by the fireflies, wouldn’t obey him; the sudden movement caused him to fall as well. As the pain surged through him, his mind grew increasingly clear.

The moment Qing Jiyue saw Tong Zhanyan right in front of him, his eyes instantly welled up with tears; it was that overwhelming joy that gave him the strength to summon his spirit beast and pull out the antidote to administer the injection.

In the sunlight, deep within the woods.

Qing Jiyue gazed quietly at Tong Zhanyan, who was sleeping restlessly before him. “I’m sorry…” Even if it was just an illusion.

He reached out, the warm, comforting sensation, and his anxious heart calmed somewhat. An hour later, Yang Hong and Wang Yanzhou woke up one after another.

After sleeping a little more, their stamina had barely recovered, but their bodies remained weak, and their heads were still spinning with nausea. The two of them took over Qing Jiyue’s watch.

After Qing Jiyue had a light meal and drunk some water, he lay down right next to Tong Zhanyan. Afraid that Tong Zhanyan might disappear again, he held onto Tong Zhanyan’s hand as he slept.

Yang Hong and Wang Yanzhou watched the scene, torn between laughter and tears, but neither said a word.

They knew all too well how real those hallucinations had been. Tong Zhanyan had done so much for them—if they were the ones who’d let him slip away… Just the thought of it sent a spasm through both their stomachs.

The sun at 4:00 p.m. was no longer as scorching as it had been at noon.

As Yang Hong and Wang Yanzhou woke up again, the others who had already woken up earlier began to stir one by one. Among them were Chu Yi and Tang Shijin.

“Has he woken up yet?” Tang Shijin asked, turning to Tong Zhanyan the moment she opened her eyes. “He has,” Yang Hong replied.

Tang Shijin let out a huge sigh of relief.

Yang Hong paused for a moment, then recounted what had happened earlier. “Qing Jiyue was the first to wake up…”

Even if he didn’t, Chu Yi, Tang Shijin, and the others would definitely ask.

Chu Yi and Tang Shijin also had extensive combat experience; they were among those who had long since sensed the illusion but had not yet fully snapped out of it. After hearing this, Chu Yi, Tang Shijin, and the rest of the group headed toward Tong Zhanyan.

“The pain from burns is far more intense than that of ordinary injuries,” Chu Yi said with a smile. No one spoke; the group fell silent.

A moment later, Chu Yi stood up and headed toward the spot where the fireflies had been earlier.

When Tong Zhanyan awoke again, it was already completely dark outside. 

The camp was unlit, shrouded in complete darkness.

For a split second, Tong Zhanyan was transported back to the camp from his hallucination—the one where he was all alone—but he soon spotted a figure beside him.

“Awake?” Chu Yi crouched down beside him. “Want some?”

Tong Zhanyan looked over—Chu Yi was holding a bag of nutrient solution, its label emblazoned with exaggerated, large characters. Put together, they roughly meant “Super-Sweet Chicken Flavor.”

Tong Zhanyan imagined the taste, then compared it to the flavor of the nutrient solution—and his already dizzy head was suddenly overcome with nausea. That jolted him fully awake.

“No, thanks,” Tong Zhanyan declined. “How about some water?” Chu Yi asked.

This time, Tong Zhanyan didn’t refuse; after a day of baking in the heat, his throat was already dry and sore. Chu Yi dug out his spare water bottle and handed it to Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan tried to sit up, but as he moved, he realized someone was holding him. Sure enough, he saw Qing Jiyue fast asleep.

Tong Zhanyan carefully moved Qing Jiyue’s hand aside, slowly sat up, and then took the water, sipping it little by little.

In this situation, drinking small amounts frequently is the best way to relieve thirst.

While Tong Zhanyan was drinking, Chu Yi walked back to his tent and sat down. After finishing his water, Tong Zhanyan looked around.

They were still at the same campsite from earlier that day, though this time, a few tents had been set up.

Most people had woken up; only Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, Su Yanran, and one other person were still lying down.

“Their vital signs are normal. I suspect this is just their first time being poisoned, so their reaction was a bit more severe,” Wang Yanzhou’s voice came from beside him. Tong Zhanyan breathed a slight sigh of relief.

The next moment, he thought of the fireflies. “What’s the deal with those fireflies?”

Chu Yi spoke up, “The glowing tails of those fireflies are covered in a large amount of scale powder, which appears to have an extremely potent hallucinogenic effect.”

“When we startled those fireflies, they took flight and scattered that powder into the air. We were exposed the moment we breathed it in.” 

“We were so startled by the fireflies at the time that it never even crossed our minds. Plus, the powder’s effects were so strong and fast-acting that no one even noticed it.”

Tong Zhanyan had long known the problem lay with those fireflies, but he hadn’t expected it to be this simple.

It was one thing for him and Ning Langdong to fall for it, but Qing Jiyue and the others—who had such extensive experience—had actually been tricked as well.

Contrary to Tong Zhanyan’s expectations, Wang Yanzhou said with a serious expression, “Because sunlight and pollution are constant, the outside world isn’t static—it’s constantly giving rise to new mutations.”

“That’s also why our common sense is often completely useless, and dangers are impossible to guard against. That’s the main reason why it’s so dangerous out there.”

Tong Zhanyan suddenly thought of those monkey-like beasts that mimicked humans. Before encountering them, he would have found it hard to believe that any beast could be capable of such behavior. 

Tong Zhanyan nodded, taking it to heart, and grew even more vigilant.

Just as Wang Yanzhou was about to order something else, a sound came from nearby—Tian Xinqing had woken up.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at Qing Jiyue, who was still asleep, then got up and went to his backpack, where he took out an unopened bottle of water. He handed one bottle to Chu Yi; supplies for everyone outside were fixed, and once someone consumed them, they were gone.

Chu Yi didn’t hesitate and accepted it immediately.

Tong Zhanyan took the other bottle and handed it to Tian Xinqing, who was lying nearby. “Are you okay? Have some water.”

It was Tian Xinqing’s first time waking up; he lay on the ground in a daze for a moment before his eyes finally came into focus. “Tong… Zhanyan…” “Mm.” Tong Zhanyan briefly explained the situation. “We were hallucinating from the poison earlier, but we’re okay now.”

It took Tian Xinqing a moment to process this, then he let out a heavy sigh, his eyes reflecting the relief of having narrowly escaped death. His hallucinations were most likely nothing serious. Tong Zhanyan helped him sit up a bit and gave him a sip of water.

Going without a single drop of water all day in this sweltering heat could easily kill someone.

Tian Xinqing downed half the bottle in one gulp before letting out a long sigh. “That was a close call…” Tong Zhanyan set the water aside and sat down. “What happened?”

Just as Tian Xinqing was about to explain, a noise came from nearby. Ning Langdong, Su Yanran, and two others—apparently disturbed by their commotion—began to stir.

Tong Zhanyan, not bothering with Tian Xinqing, hurried to get more water. A few minutes later, the group had recovered.

“What’s going on…?” someone asked.

Tong Zhanyan and the others had no choice but to explain it all over again.

Having just woken up, they were still feeling extremely dizzy and had no energy left to figure out what had happened. Tong Zhanyan didn’t bother them further and returned to Qing Jiyue’s side.

Although those who had woken up first were feeling a bit better, they still hadn’t completely shaken off the effects of the scale powder. The night watchmen had changed shifts, and after they ate a little, they soon fell back asleep.

When Tong Zhanyan woke up again, it was already the next morning. The sun hadn’t risen yet, but it was already fully light out.

The group packed up their belongings, intending to travel a distance before sunrise and then find a more secluded spot to set up camp.

Qing Jiyue was already awake.

After a good night’s sleep, his complexion had improved considerably.

Ning Langdong and the others who had woken up late were still groggy.

Yang Hong and the others forcibly roused the last person who hadn’t woken up yet.

The man woke up without much trouble, though he reacted quite strongly to the sudden awakening.

Two people then dragged him, one in front and one behind, onto the back of the person in the fused state.

To them, there was no difference between the inside and outside of the forest; after all, it was full of unknowns, so they didn’t leave the forest but continued deeper into it.

“It’s close by—let’s go quickly and come back quickly.”

However, as they moved this time, the group cautiously took out their gas masks and put them on.

Although the sun hadn’t risen yet, the temperature was already climbing. Combined with the lack of ventilation in the gas masks, Tong Zhanyan began to sweat within moments, and his lungs felt scorching hot.

A little over two hours later, as the sun hung high overhead and the temperature soared to nearly forty degrees, the group stopped moving forward and began looking for a place to set up camp. They tried to find a cave, but after searching along the base of the mountain for half an hour, they came up empty-handed.

Seeing that the temperature was rising steadily, the group chose a secluded, shady spot at the foot of the mountain. Before setting up camp, Chu Yi led a few people on a reconnaissance mission around the area; only after confirming that everything was safe did they set up camp.

By the time the camp was set up, the group was so exhausted from the heat that they didn’t even have the energy to speak. This was especially true for Ning Langdong, who had woken up late, was still feeling dizzy, and had little experience with outdoor activities—he lay down on the ground and immediately rolled his eyes back.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but chuckle; he was feeling miserable too, but he was better adapted to the heat than they were.

Tong Zhanyan had assumed it would be that way, but when the temperature soared an hour later, even he couldn’t help but roll his eyes.

They spent their first noon in the crevice, and during the second, he spent most of the time in a deep sleep—this was, strictly speaking, his first real experience with extreme heat.

He was drenched in sweat—but the real agony was having to keep his clothes on; the protective gear blocked the sun’s rays far more effectively than the forest had, protecting their bodies from harm. Sweat and stifling heat—Tong Zhanyan felt as if his whole body were about to boil.

He tried hard to force himself to sleep—if he fell asleep, he wouldn’t feel it—but sleeping in the intense heat was just as agonizing; even when he did drift off, he’d be woken up by the heat every few minutes.

After waking up countless times, just as Tong Zhanyan felt every last drop of moisture had been drained from his body, the temperature finally began to drop slowly. At 4:00 p.m., when the temperature had dropped by more than ten degrees, Tong Zhanyan felt as if he had survived a catastrophe.

At 4:30, the group began moving again.

As the transformed people began to run, the moment the wind swept past him, Tong Zhanyan was so happy he couldn’t help but squint his eyes. Around 6:00, the sun set, and the temperature dropped another notch.

The group, which had been silent the entire way, began to talk more.

“This is nothing—if you went out in the middle of summer, the soles of your shoes would melt,” Yang Hong said with a laugh to Tong Zhanyan and the other three.

“I’ve seen people get sunburned right on the spot—they were only out in the sun for about a minute, and when they came back, their skin was covered in blisters,” Tang Shijin added.

“That must have been during the peak of summer heat, right?” Yang Hong asked. “Yeah, a total rookie,” Tang Shijin laughed.

The mention of new recruits instantly got the group fired up, and they began chatting animatedly, each chiming in with their own stories.

Listening to them, Tong Zhanyan, Ning Langdong, and the other two exchanged glances; a complex expression flashed in Fang’s eyes.

In such harsh conditions, they had already shed a layer of skin on just the first day, yet Yang Hong and his men still had to go out on mop-up operations from time to time.

“Come on, cut it out. You’re scaring them,” one of them said to Tong Zhanyan and the other three.

Only then did Yang Hong and his group notice the four men’s silence.

Tong Zhanyan wanted to explain, but the words were on the tip of his tongue, and he didn’t know how to put them into words.

After a moment’s thought, he turned to Tian Xinqing, “What did you see in that hallucination earlier that scared you so much?” Everyone turned to look at him.

Tian Xinqing was much more lucid than before, and the expression on his face had become more vivid; his features were contorted.

After a moment, Tian Xinqing finally spoke: “…We completed the mission and returned to the base. My dad came looking for me. He wanted to take me away, but I refused, so he chased me with a knife…”

Tong Zhanyan pictured the scene in his mind and, for a moment, didn’t know how to react.

But Tian Xinqing’s story wasn’t over yet. “He grabbed me and asked if I was going… When I said no, he chopped off my foot…”

This time, no one could bring themselves to laugh.

Tian Xinqing’s story was straight out of a horror movie.

“Why did your dad have to drag you back?” Yang Hong asked, puzzled.

Yang Hong was outgoing and had gotten along well with Tian Xinqing, Xu, and Gu Yunyang while at the base.

He also knew a bit about how Tian Xinqing had been forced to go to the Sidi Military Academy.

“It’s not about going home,” Tian Xinqing said, unsure how to explain. “Then what is it?”

Tian Xinqing scratched his head, gritted his teeth, and said, “He wants me to join the army.” The crowd, which had been lively just a moment ago, fell silent instantly.

This silence was different from before—it carried a heavier, more somber tone.

“My family has a long military tradition. My grandparents, my maternal grandmother, my mom, and my older sister are all in the military. My dad used to be, too—he and my mom actually met at the Lin family’s place. Later, my dad got injured in the leg and had to retire.”

“My dad wants me to join too. He’s been steering me in that direction since I was little, but I don’t want to go…”

“I don’t remember my mom at all. She went back to the Lin family’s place not long after giving birth to me, and she never came back. The only photo I have of the two of us was taken right after he gave birth to me at the hospital.”

“I only have a vague memory of my older sister—I was just five when she died…”

Tian Xinqing had never shared any of this with anyone before—not even with Tong Zhanyan, Su Yanran, or the others. To suddenly open up like this, especially in front of Qing Jiyue, Yang Hong, and the rest of the group, made him feel a bit ashamed.

“I really resented this when I was a kid, and I hated my mom, too…” Tian Xinqing fell silent after that. Tong Zhanyan tried to speak up, but didn’t know what to say.

Tian Xinqing had always been quite reluctant to go to the front lines; in first grade, he had even thought about secretly saving money to run away. Because of this, his father gave him money only once a week—and only at a bank off campus.

However, Tian Xinqing was also one of the few among them who clearly understood and paid close attention to what was happening on the front lines.

Tong Zhanyan and Su Yanran had discussed this matter several times before; at the time, they felt that what Tian Xinqing hated wasn’t joining the military itself, but the fact that his father was forcing him to do it…

At the time, they hadn’t considered that this might be the case.

Yang Hong broke the silence. “It’s pretty good to do what you want to do.”

“Everyone has their own aspirations; you don’t necessarily have to join the military. Isn’t what you’re doing now pretty great too?” Tang Shijin said with a smile to Tong Zhanyan.

What Tian Xinqing was doing now was far more meaningful than what any of them were doing; Tong Zhanyan’s base had reached its current level in part thanks to his contributions. Tian Xinqing had mustered all his courage to go.

Seeing no trace of contempt on Yang Hong’s and the others’ faces, his eyes suddenly stung with tears. “…I don’t actually mind joining the military. I just hate that my dad forced me. He’s always going on about how tough it is on the front lines—how many people are holding on even after being infected with the frenzy virus, and how many are fighting with everything they’ve got without retreating…”

Yang Hong and the others smiled; no one said anything.

Tong Zhanyan turned to Ning Langdong and Su Yanran and changed the subject. “What about you guys? What did you see in your hallucinations?” “When I went back, someone told me something—something had happened to my mom,” Ning Langdong said.

Su Yanran gave a wry smile. “I’m pretty much the same—except I’m my dad…”

Tong Zhanyan was speechless.

After a moment’s thought, he felt relieved. Ning Langdong and Su Yanran were, in a way, quite similar—they both came from single-parent families, one with only a mother, the other with only a father.

Once he’d come to terms with it, Tong Zhanyan felt a headache coming on as he sensed the silence spreading through the crowd once more. Should he never have brought up this topic?

“Why aren’t you asking me?” Chu Yi’s voice rang out abruptly, tinged with a hint of hurt at being overlooked. 

Tong Zhanyan asked, “What did you see?”

Chu Yi chuckled, “I’m not telling you.”

Tong Zhanyan’s lips twitched. In a way, Chu Yi really did have the makings of a lunatic.

Still, Tong Zhanyan didn’t actually dislike him.

“Childish,” Tang Shijin interjected.

“I didn’t even realize it was an illusion…” 

“I thought it was a little strange at the time.”

With Chu Yi’s interruption, the atmosphere instantly livened up.

The group laughed, but they didn’t let their guard down. They alternated between running and walking until past nine at night, when they reached roughly the center of the mountain range, and they finally found a spot to set up camp.

The trees in this grove were not like the tall, straight ones they’d seen before; they were a different kind—shorter, with smaller, denser leaves.

The ground here was also quite uneven, strewn with stones and exposed rock layers.

It took the group a while to finally find a spot with dense trees and relatively level ground. As usual, Chu Yi led the others on a patrol of the surrounding area.

After Tong Zhanyan and the others took off their backpacks, they waited quietly until the group returned and confirmed it was safe before they began setting up their tents.

Yang Hong and the others went to stretch a sunshade over the trees. Tong Zhanyan, meanwhile, helped Qing Jiyue set up the tent.

It felt rather strange because he had already followed Qing Jiyue through this process once in his hallucination.

What made it even more unsettling was that setting up a tent was actually quite simple, so Qing Jiyue’s methods bore many similarities to those in his hallucination, leaving him with the persistent illusion that he was still in a hallucination.

The tent was set up quickly.

That night, Tong Zhanyan and the other three were still not assigned to stand watch, though Qing Jiyue was on duty tonight. Crawling into the tent alone and lying down in his sleeping bag, Tong Zhanyan felt completely out of place.

After a moment’s thought, he pulled open the tent flap and readjusted his sleeping bag, waiting for Qing Jiyue to fall asleep.

If he woke up to find he was alone again, he’d go crazy.

Qing Jiyue, sensing his unease, shifted a little closer to him. “Go to sleep.”

“Mm.” Tong Zhanyan closed his eyes.

He hadn’t slept much during the day, and with the nighttime temperature in the low twenties—which was quite comfortable—sleepiness washed over him shortly after he closed his eyes. Tong Zhanyan relaxed his body and let his thoughts drift away.

“Cough, cough.”

A cough that sounded as if the person were struggling to breathe rang out right next to Tong Zhanyan’s ear.

The moment he heard that sound, Tong Zhanyan’s drowsiness vanished completely, and every hair on his body stood on end. He snapped his eyes open.

He placed his backpack next to his head.

Tong Zhanyan immediately headed toward the tent entrance. Beyond the half-drawn curtain, Qing Jiyue was sitting with his back to him. In the darkness ahead of him, Yang Hong’s silhouette was faintly visible.

Qing Jiyue hadn’t disappeared, and Tong Zhanyan’s taut nerves relaxed slightly.

The next moment, he pulled back the sleeping bag and sat up, drew the military knife beside his backpack, and steeled himself as he approached it.

The sleeping bag wasn’t inside the backpack; it was hanging beneath it. But he had opened the backpack earlier that day to get water and a nutrient solution… Tong Zhanyan swallowed hard. At least he could be sure there wasn’t a head inside the backpack.

Tong Zhanyan unfastened the buckles and untied the ropes, then peered into the backpack while crouching on one knee. A first-aid kit, a food pack, ropes, spare clothes…

Something suddenly lunged at Tong Zhanyan’s face; by the time he realized what was happening, he had already swung his arm out. He knocked a fist-sized object into the corner of the tent.

The moment Tong Zhanyan realized what it was, his mind went blank.

It was a scorpion-like creature, its entire body a muddy brown-black color.