Treading Across the Lava

This was a moth flying into a flame. By now, nearly everyone in the world understood in their hearts that this was destined to be a moth flying into a flame. The red moth insignia on the chests of the Stream Blades combat uniforms felt like a prophecy carelessly uttered by history, finally coming due on this day across the Antarctic battlefield. This offensive, provisionally named "Final Redemption" by Azure authorities, was perhaps the final battlefield charge that this human source energy legion known as Stream Blades would ever make. Yes, their name was Stream Blades. The peculiar name had originated long ago, from a joke shared between a few boys. Later, almost the entire world came to know them. This outlaw legion under Major The Qing had always been regarded as possessing a lovely name, alongside a reputation that was sufficiently arrogant and renowned. They were neither kind nor gentle, nor were they known for righteousness or greatness. They had never been. Yet today, under the inescapable checkmate of the Antarctic battlefield, before another crisis of life, death, and annihilation for the human world, this army, which boasted the highest average combat power and the fiercest disposition across the entire battlefield—this human legion that had embarked alone on the eastern campaign with a mere seven thousand combatants—ultimately chose to raise their combat blades and march toward their final battle. At the same time, this was likely the very last human legion offensive across all of Antarctica. For the strategic goal of this final offensive was not victory at all; it was simply to buy the human legions elsewhere on the battlefield a chance to survive, a chance to come back. Victory was impossible from the start. The Rejectors exhausted all their resources in an effort to ensure this offensive, launched for the redemption of humanity, could be witnessed and remembered by the world. The war correspondents, Ashleia and Ian, were granted a dedicated frequency to transmit the battlefield reports they had followed along and risked their lives to witness. "Third blockade breached. Stream Blades' first casualty report: the death toll has reached approximately five hundred, including three top-tier combatants fallen." "Fifth blockade breached. Second casualty report: at least eight hundred Stream Blades soldiers have been left forever on the ice plains. Among them, Regiment Commander Gu Zhazha of the Third Formation was heavily wounded while holding the rearguard, making a desperate last stand at Ice Peak 116. Communications have now been lost." "Sixth blockade breached. Stream Blades casualties have surpassed a thousand. Little Prince Zhu Jiaming is wounded. Top-tier combatant Xu Shiliang and twenty-one soldiers of his battle formation have joined in protecting Second Lieutenant Wen Jifei and Captain Milla. The gunfire across the ice sheet has not ceased for a single moment." "..." From the aerial perspective, the black torrent continued its desperate, furious charge across the vast, bleak expanse of snow and ice, while on their flanks and behind them, an ever-growing horde of dajians pursued and closed in. The black torrent crossed the Transantarctic Mountains. A swarm of dajians, vaster than any they had encountered at the previous blockades, barred the path ahead. The rushing footsteps of the warriors did not pause for an instant. "Now!" a sharp cry rang out from the very front of the formation. The front lines split to the left and right in response, revealing a dead iron sled dragged along by twelve warriors. With a sudden release, they let go as it skidded forward. Upon the sled, a thick, colossal axe-shaped slab of dead iron, edged with blades on three sides, lifted slightly off the ice and flew toward the front of the formation. *Clang-clang-clang-clang-clang...* On the right side of the vanguard, Wu Xu and Theodore each seized a dead iron chain, pulled it taut, gathered their strength, and hurled it forward with both hands. *Whoosh!* A brief roar. *Boom!* The two sounds crashed together. Carried by momentum and the explosive force of two super combatants, the massive block of dead iron smashed squarely into the dajian horde like a source energy bullet bursting from a barrel. In a single strike, at least a hundred dajians were shattered or sheared clean in two at the chest. Yet the momentum of the colossal dead iron slab had not yet run out. A breach seemed on the verge of opening... Just then, six Red Shoulders appeared, swinging their pillar swords in unison to chop down. They intended to knock the dead iron slab out of the air. No one in Stream Blades possessed strength on the level of Admiral Bochen. If the dead iron slab was brought down, in a battlefield this chaotic and densely packed, it would be almost impossible to launch it into the air again to smash through the lines. *Bang!* In an abrupt burst of sound, a figure in bloodstained iron armor charged in like lightning, lowered her shoulder, and slammed violently against the rear of the still-flying dead iron slab. The image formed in that split second looked as though that human iron armor was shouldering the massive block of dead iron all on her own, charging toward the six sword-swinging Red Shoulders and the dense dajian defensive line behind them. *Click!* Disregarding the danger, Ashleia had Ian boost her into the air to capture this scene. This was their mission. As a war correspondent, Ashleia knew—and stubbornly believed—that certain people and certain scenes had to be engraved forever in the long river of human history, even if she had to trade her life to do it. Immediately after: *Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang! Bang!* The zombie-like form of Corpse Man Weize abruptly materialized beside Rusty Sister, swinging his blade and crashing into the dead iron block. Wu Xu held the Binggu Spear horizontally in both hands, crashing in with ferocious speed. Theodore slammed into it. The wounded Little Prince slammed into it. Regiment Commander Storm slammed into it... "Seventh blockade breach complete. Casualties cannot yet be estimated; they may have already exceeded fifteen hundred... Additionally, Regiment Commander He Guang of the Second Formation has fallen in battle." The battlefield transmissions from Ashleia and Ian allowed Azure and the entire world to know everything happening there, while simultaneously making everyone realize at last: this time, they truly no longer had Major Qing. A world of tears, cries, hot blood, and despair. "Fucking idiots." At this moment, those who would still curse Stream Blades as fucking idiots could only be found in one place: the City of Injustice. To them, every single face making that desperate charge in Antarctica was so familiar, yet so foreign. Many of those bastards used to be notoriously cunning and shameless. Why had they suddenly turned so stupid this time...? Originally, the City of Injustice had planned to take part in this Lost Continent expedition, but the pre-war optimism of Azure and all humanity had ultimately kept them from joining the fray. Going now was already too late. The big bosses who frequently sat together after the Zenith War were gathered in such silence for the first time. To this day, they had not gone to the Third Fixed Exploration Site, but in their hearts, perhaps every one of them was already Stream Blades. Shu You sat with his head bowed, silently staring at the blade in his hands. In this battle, with Major Qing absent from the field, he could have been of immense help; at the very least, he could have shouldered much of the battlefield pressure for Wu Xu. He knew what Wu Xu would have to bear in this battle. Everyone here knew. And so, the silent tears of Cat Girl Nguyen Thi Minh Nguyet had not stopped since the beginning. "I should have gone long ago. What was I even holding out for? Just come back alive, please. Please come back alive, Lieutenant Wu Xu. As long as you return, I'll drop everything here and go to you." Boss Dao kept his head lowered, uttering not a single word... Strictly speaking, the entirety of Stream Blades could still be considered his subordinates. Back then, he was Dao Dali, the leader of a freelance regiment who cherished his little brothers more than anyone else in the entire City of Injustice. "Boss Dao, show your spirit..." Watching his boys march toward certain death while powerless to do anything, Boss Dao choked on his words, muttering in a trembling voice. *** "Qingbai." Han Qingyu's gaze finally left the communicator, and he turned to call out. "...Yeah." Yang Qingbai stood a short distance away. Flustered, he quickly switched off the Rejectors' public frequency on his communicator, wiped away his tears the moment he raised his head, and forced an easy smile as he walked over. "Time to go? Let's head out, Qingzi." He spoke as he drew near. Only when he saw him clearly did he realize that the look in Han Qingyu's eyes seemed somewhat different right now. It looked somewhat like that guy from before. *Did he... recover?* Yang Qingbai froze for a split second, nearly bursting into tears. His heart was pounding violently, like magma surging through a mountain range, and his consciousness was leaping in chaotic disarray. Han Qingyu knew he was in a peculiar state; some transformation was taking place. He hadn't fully recovered yet... but he couldn't wait any longer. Han Qingyu swept his gaze around and asked Yang Qingbai, "Where are my pillar swords? Where are they?" Han Qingyu's appearance on the Antarctic battlefield had never been his standard loadout. He carried only two blades. Major Qing's signature arsenal, aside from twin blades, included two blue-light pillar swords, one large and one small, which hadn't been seen for a long time. *He hasn't recovered.* A moment ago, Yang Qingbai had nearly believed that Qingzi was fully restored, but that single question told him that he hadn't—at least, his flame-decay property had not returned. Because the airship was not far from the pillar swords. If Qingzi had recovered, he would have sensed them, and the pillar swords would have flown to him on their own. "No, Qingzi, Plague Chicken told me that you can't..." Yang Qingbai began. "You don't want to leave either, do you?" Knowing he had seen through him, Han Qingyu paused for a second before looking into Yang Qingbai's eyes again. He spoke: "Qingbai, have you ever thought about it? If I really leave today, how am I supposed to live the rest of my life?" "When he wakes up and finds out, what will he do?" "And those soldiers of Stream Blades—they came here because they followed me. I have to bring them back. If I can't bring them back... then I'll stay here with them." Yang Qingbai nodded... then shook his head violently. "But..." *But Plague Chicken said that for the sake of humanity's future, you have to survive,* Yang Qingbai thought to himself. "But I don't give a damn about humanity's future," Han Qingyu said. "Let me run away just this once... Let me look after my soldiers, my friends, my brothers." "..." Yang Qingbai choked up. He knew he ought to stand firm, but deep down, his heart was already on Qingzi's side. Because although Qingzi spoke more childishly than before, he was right about one thing: Yang Qingbai himself didn't want to leave in the slightest. Sometimes, surviving alone was far more agonizing and tormenting than dying by the side of one's brothers. "Besides, none of you can beat me, and none of you can keep up with me." Having said his piece, Han Qingyu turned to look at the others present. "Go get my pillar swords, or I'll just leave like this." Opposite him, Rubiazha and the others stood at a loss; the decision was not theirs to make. The standoff stretched on for three to five seconds... Until Yang Qingbai turned around, steadied himself, and said, "I'll go. I'll get them for you." *** On the eastern front of Antarctica, Stream Blades' desperate rush toward the polar towing field had already crossed the Transantarctic Mountains, shattering through seven blockades. And behind them, in a place unseen by anyone, near the coastline around Mount Erebus, Major Qing finally fastened on his pillar swords. Four blades upon his person—Major The Qing in his signature configuration—appeared on the Antarctic battlefield for the very first time. "Don't follow. You can't keep up." Han Qingyu spoke without turning his head, striding forward. Yang Qingbai and the others did not follow, because doing so would be useless, and they truly couldn't keep up. Though Qingzi appeared to merely be walking, his speed was several times faster than their all-out sprint. "He can catch up to them." "He's started running..." "He... he didn't go around!" Yang Qingbai, Rubiazha, and the others suddenly froze, jaws slack, as they watched Han Qingyu's receding figure in the distance step directly into the volcanic lava zone without the slightest hesitation. Treading across the rivers of reddish-yellow lava, he sprinted forward.