Fate Is on My Side

His name was Zhou Mo. He was the stationmaster of the Qiuhe Wang family's Outpost 18. He had loved martial arts and brandishing sabers since childhood, dreaming from an early age of growing up to be a hero. Yet he had neither the opportunity nor the talent. Straining with all his might, he managed to become a Level 2 cultivator, but accomplished nothing further after that. He had drifted through several muddle-headed years as a stationmaster for the Wang family, expecting to simply keep plodding along until the rainy season arrived and he followed Chen Fan—only to watch Xiao Qiu risk death to charge out and lay his life on the line to defend the outpost. The heroic spark in Zhou Mo's heart flared back to life. The rain was icy. Yet his blood had never burned so hot. If young Xiao Qiu could do it, why couldn't he, Zhou Mo? This life had been worth living. He, Zhou Mo, would no longer be a nobody. He believed the people atop the wall would remember his name. And yet... "Mm..." Standing in the downpour with his arms spread wide and his head held high, feeling the icy rain patter against his face, Zhou Mo couldn't help twitching his nose. People always said your life flashed before your eyes when you were about to die, and that time would slow down. He just hadn't expected it to slow down this much. He had stood there forever, and still wasn't dead. Now he felt a tinge of regret. He shouldn't have handed his saber to Xiao Qiu earlier; otherwise, he could have given himself a quick end. Getting slammed by flesh worm ghosts, detonated, and melted away by acid would probably hurt like hell. When the time came, no matter how much it hurt, he resolved not to scream. That would ruin his dignified exit. He set his mind to it in silence. A long moment passed. *Still not dead?* Puzzled, Zhou Mo opened his eyes. Was this montage of memories dragging on a bit too long? But when he looked around, he discovered that every single flesh worm ghost had somehow vanished. It was as if everything he had just endured were a hallucination. Not a single flesh worm ghost remained, neither inside the camp nor in the gray mist. Only the viscous slime beneath his feet served as a reminder that none of this had been a dream. Standing bewildered amid pools of green slime, he looked up at the people on the wall, completely clueless as to what had happened. "Come on up," Chen Fan, who had been holding back laughter on the ramparts the entire time, finally cracked a grin. "Stop striking that pose. Your arms must be sore after holding them up for so long." ... "Fate is on my side," Chen Fan murmured with a dazed sigh, resting both hands on the edge of the parapet as he gazed into the distance. The gray mist around the camp was spotless now, devoid of a single ghost creature. The swarm of flesh worm ghosts had retreated. Or rather... they had been forced to. Flesh worm ghosts had no limbs; their entire bodies were balls of flesh, and they couldn't even crawl. Their only means of travel was by riding the wind—wherever the wind blew, they went. That was why the flesh worm ghosts had twisted in torment as they approached the ghost fire, only to beam with delight the moment they left the camp. They had no control over their course. They were entirely at the mercy of the wind. Like dandelions, where they landed depended purely on the will of the heavens. And the moment Zhou Mo hurled the ghost stones over the wall and spread his arms to await death, the wind shifted. A violent gale blew toward the west. The camp had already been sitting on the edge of the ghost tide to begin with; once the wind turned, the massive horde of flesh worm ghosts dispersed instantly, swept into the Eternal Night by the howling wind. That was why Chen Fan attributed it to destiny. Had the wind blown east, then even if Zhou Mo had tossed in ten bags of ghost stones instead of one, the camp would still have been doomed. In fact... Had the gale at nightfall not blown south in the first place, he wouldn't have encountered this swarm at all. Naturally, that hadn't been up to him either. Now, he finally understood why the female ghost had retreated so swiftly. A ghost tide of this scale could level an entire town; even high-level ghost creatures had to give it a wide berth. To stand in its way was certain death. Flesh worm ghosts had no concept of fear or backing down. After all, they couldn't control their trajectory even if they wanted to, making retreat impossible. By his estimate, flesh worm ghosts were likely creatures that became active when the rainy season began, drifting about on the raging gales to form ghost tides. They didn't seem to have any specific objective. They simply brought pure destruction. Whatever they struck, they ruined. "Zhou Mo." Chen Fan took the broad saber from Xiao Qiu and offered it back to Zhou Mo as the man climbed onto the wall. His expression was earnest. "A Level 2 cultivator might not seem like much, but as you reach Level 3, Level 4, Level 5, you'll become invaluable as your rank grows. "As long as you remain in this camp, I'll provide you with ghost stones to raise your cultivation. "You'll handle the camp's security. "I guarantee your cultivation. "You guarantee the camp's safety." "Yes!" Feeling rather embarrassed, Zhou Mo accepted the saber, his eyes darting away as he murmured, "Rest easy, Stationmaster. With me around, nothing will happen to this camp." "Are your hands all right?" Chen Fan glanced down at Zhou Mo's hands, which were peeling and bleached white from the corrosion. "They're fine." Zhou Mo waved them off hastily. "Luckily, the downpour diluted most of the slime left behind by the dead flesh worm ghosts, so they didn't corrode too deep—just peeled off a layer of skin. Hurts a bit, but nothing serious. It'll heal in a few days." "You looked pretty dashing just now," Wang Kui sidled over, draping an arm around his shoulder and winking. "Quite a pose." "Get lost!" Already embarrassed, Zhou Mo flushed with mortification at Wang Kui's teasing, shoving his arm away and snapping, "Say another word and I'll deck you! As a Level 2 cultivator, beating you up won't be a problem!" "You're a real man," Quehou offered admiringly. "Better than me." "Ah, well, it was nothing..." Zhou Mo averted his gaze awkwardly, not daring to meet anyone's eyes. Had he died out there, it would have been magnificent; having survived, all that remained was pure mortification. It was almost too much to bear... He was an older man, after all... "..." Chen Fan stood on the wall, smiling quietly without interrupting the horseplay behind him. The tense atmosphere had largely dissipated. Bantering and relaxing like this was good for everyone's well-being; remaining tightly wound for too long only invited trouble. He believed that after tonight, the entire camp would emerge stronger. Not merely in combat power, but in unity. A lone architect could never build an enduring outpost on his own; he needed a reliable crew of his own. Right now, this crew was shaping up nicely. In that regard, he considered himself quite fortunate. Furthermore... Crisis and opportunity always walked hand in hand. Once the crisis had passed, opportunity was all that remained. The ghost stones strewn across the ground outside the wall were the finest reward, and the few exotic treasures glowing with white light among them seemed to remind him that harvest time had arrived. "Quehou," Chen Fan turned to the man beside him and instructed, "That female ghost only pulled back to avoid the flesh worm ghosts. Vengeful as she is, she'll definitely return. Take those two brothers and retrieve all the ghost stones down below. Wrap your hands in the coarse cloth from the sheds so you don't hurt yourselves." "Understood!" Quehou nodded solemnly, then limped hurriedly off with the two subordinates of Zhou Mo and Qi Chong to gather the ghost stones and exotic treasures outside the wall. In any group, everyone's feelings had to be considered. Both Xiao Qiu and Zhou Mo had proven themselves tonight, whereas Quehou hadn't had a chance to shine due to his bad leg. If he wasn't given a task now, he would feel disheartened. The same applied to the remaining two men. They had to be put to work as well. Only then could everyone converse on equal terms without anyone feeling left out.