"Hope" and "Future"

Under the gloomy daylight, at the end of the freezing rain, everything grew blurred. Only a pair of eyes filled with towering fury remained crystal clear. Like fire. As though he had just completed an arduous trek, the man sporting a traditional Mid-Continent full beard was covered in mud. Yet entwined within that beard and those flecks of mud were wisps of bloody stench. His expression was like that of a beast waiting to devour its prey. Just his gaze alone carved a sharp scratch across Shehri's face. The falling rain evaporated piece by piece, unable even to pass through that gaze, which had fully materialized into physical force. Amidst a crisp rasping sound, two fingers on his right hand extended silently, curled slightly like hooked claws, ready at any moment to tear open the uninvited guest's throat. "I recall telling you—you're not welcome here, Shehri." "We are both people of the White Nation, after all. Why treat me like a stranger, Lord Ni Lin?" Beneath the tearing force of that razor-sharp gaze, the gash on Shehri's face quickly knit itself shut. He smiled, completely unbothered. "Besides, I was merely teaching the children what happened in the past, what is happening now, and what will happen to them in the future. Did I say something wrong?" *Crack!* In that instant, Ni Lin tore through the air. Claw-like fingers pierced straight through Shehri's throat, violently tearing his blood vessels apart. "I told you: shut up!" Ni Lin slowly tightened his grip, crushing the bone. "...Would you be welcome here?" Shehri's smile grew even more derisive. "To this day, which of us isn't a Scourge of Tianyuan that can never see the light of day? Where did you get this sense of ownership, Ni Lin? Where can you run by just blindly hiding?" The torn flesh quickly mended. Shehri soon regained his original appearance and offered a faint smile. "Is there any point in deceiving yourself? The Federation and the Empire have no mercy to give us, much less any future to speak of—" Ni Lin looked down with blood-red eyes, utterly unmoved. "And does that sneaky bastard behind you have one? Or are you saying that dragging our few remaining people to throw away their lives for your pipe dreams, running some bullshit terrorist organization, is going to give us a future?!" Shehri instantly grew solemn. "At least we still have hope of reclaiming our homeland." "Reclaiming?" Ni Lin laughed out of sheer fury, his blood-red eyes blazing like fire. "You dare spout that bullshit to my face? Shehri, do you really give a damn about this so-called homeland? Then where were you when the Priest King lay dying? Where were you when the White Nation fell and broke apart? When everything was stripped away from us, where were you and your master?" "It was merely a temporary retreat and tactical evasion. Otherwise, how could this sliver of hope have been preserved today? The Young Wolf Lord has grown up, Ni Lin. Everything left behind by the Old Wolf Lord will return—we shall ultimately take back everything we lost." "Or will it all be burned to ash in the flames of your and your master's ambition?" Ni Lin bared his teeth in what looked like a grin, turning increasingly savage and manic. "Shehri, merely enduring breathing the same air as trash like you has used up every shred of my patience. Don't push me into eating you right now... Get lost, Shehri. Scram as far as you can. I'm on the verge of losing control. Why not spare your own life, if only for your master's grand ambitions?" "You will understand eventually, Ni Lin. Our sacrifices and efforts will never be in vain." Shehri took a step back, then another. Amidst the battering storm, his body abruptly disintegrated. The flesh and blood beneath the bandages dissolved into countless flying insects, and the bandages dropped into the muddy water, slithering away like snakes. He vanished without a trace. In the raging tempest that surged once more, Ni Lin stood indifferent, staring coldly at the spot where Shehri had vanished. After a long silence, he retracted his gaze and looked toward the dazed, terrified children. "Don't believe that fellow's nonsense. He only wants to use you, just like they once used the White Nation..." Without scolding them or venting his anger, Ni Lin reached out and ruffled their hair. "The rain is still heavy. Head back inside and do your schoolwork properly, understand?" "But, Uncle Inayat..." Drenched from head to toe, a youth looked up at him, bewildered. "If Mr. Shehri is wrong, what are we supposed to do in the future?" Inayat pondered for a moment, then chuckled. He bent down and tapped the boy's shoulder. "That's for you to discover. As real men, you must seek out hope and a future that belong to you." Hope and a future. Watching the children gradually head back toward the camp, Inayat remained standing alone where he was. His smile slowly dissolved into exhaustion. Hope and a future... Such things had ceased to exist long ago. *** After the calamity beast's death, the torrential rain persisted for another three days. Or rather, precisely because the slain beast caused the typhoon to halt its growth and completely collapse, the storm unleashed every last shred of its remaining fury. Like an invisible corpse rotting away, torrential bloody runoff and foul-smelling rain spread outward. Dark clouds stretched across thousands of miles. Seen from satellite imagery, they looked like a bursting pustule that refused to disperse even after the rain spent itself. A gloomy haze blanketed the vault of heaven, blocking out all sunlight. Even at high noon, the world remained plunged in murky gloom. Beyond the brightly lit inner city, the slums were dead silent; not even weeping could be heard. What had once been home had now turned into a den of horrors that refugees avoided at all costs, dare not even approaching—not only due to the floodwaters that had yet to fully recede, but also because scavengers armed with weapons prowled the ruins in packs as soon as the disaster wave passed, hunting for anything of value. Yet in a place that had been a slum to begin with, how much of value could possibly remain? A piece of clothing, a car, a few spare parts, a bite of food, or even a living person who still drew breath— For things found everywhere elsewhere and treated with contempt, armed beasts had already begun slaughtering one another. In ruins stripped of any semblance of order, who knew what would appear around the next corner? In the muggy, humid weather, corpses decomposed at terrifying speed. Before the rains had even stopped, countless snakes, insects, rats, and ants crawled forth. Scavenger birds wheeled like clouds amidst the intermittent gunfire; every time they were startled into flight, it heralded another slaughter, and every time they landed, it marked the creation of fresh carrion. Desperate refugees had no choice but to huddle on surrounding high ground waiting for death, or linger near the perimeter of the urban district, waiting for relief rations or garbage trucks— Some even took desperate gambles, turning their sights to the industrial zone on the high ground outside the city. People were gunned down by guards constantly as they tried to climb over the perimeter walls. "The situation is terrible." Returning once again, Elder Longge's expression had grown increasingly numb. "Didn't they just organize relief?" Ji Jue, who had just returned from a charity gala holding a commendation from the interim government, was taken aback. "Did that do any good? It's nowhere near enough," Longge sighed wearily. "The relief donated by the big corporations was sold off to the black market by the interim government's people before it even reached the warehouses. They didn't even leave behind expired food or medicine..." Ji Jue was not surprised. "Giving it to the interim government is like throwing meat buns to a dog—nothing ever reaches the people. But with such a great chance to look good in public, hasn't anyone approached the Order?" "They did. Incredibly generous, too. But there are very few I dare accept." Longge smiled bitterly. "Everyone expects an old fellow like me to endorse their moral credentials. But if their consciences were truly clean, why would they need me? I wouldn't mind swallowing my pride and throwing my old face away, but I fear someone wants to use the Order for their own agendas." "Don't worry, Xinquan can send over a bit more," Ji Jue consoled him. Ever since receiving the disaster warning, he had told Yu Shu to prepare supplies, and they were already on the way. "If that's not enough, I'll figure out another way to help." "That's already plenty, Mr. Ji." Longge smiled with difficulty. "We just need to endure these few days. The headquarters is still gathering supplies to send over, and they'll arrive soon. It's just that apart from complimentary medals, we have nothing left to repay you with." "I happen to like medals. Give me a few more—it looks quite prestigious wearing them out," Ji Jue said, his eyebrows lifting into a faint smile. "Then it's settled." After exchanging a few more words, he stood up and took his leave. There were simply too many things to deal with. The crude makeshift office was merely an area partitioned off with sheet metal inside the factory floor. The entire Haian factory complex was already packed to capacity. There were not even enough floor pallets; swaths of people slept directly on the bare ground. A pungent smell of disinfectant hung in the air, suppressing the heavy stench of people who had been unable to bathe for days. The ventilation system ran at full blast around the clock, yet it could barely alleviate the dampness in the air. Everyone was disheveled and gaunt, their faces bleak, but a flicker of life remained in their eyes. Having long grown accustomed to endless disasters and hardships, a flood was not enough to extinguish their spirits completely. Compared to their compatriots left to fend for themselves in the wilderness, they were already fortunate enough. They had rudimentary medical care, a roof over their heads, and expired compressed biscuits soaked in hot water to eat. There were no gun barrels pressed against their foreheads forcing them out. Compared to the living hell outside, this place was practically paradise. "Hello, Mr. Ji." "Good morning, Director Ji." "Good day, sir." Greetings in various local dialects and clumsy Federation tongue rang out in an endless stream. Ji Jue nodded calmly as he walked through the crowd, eyes fixed straight ahead, disregarding the gratitude and appreciation. He offered no response, nor could he afford to. Keeping a stern face served better to exert a modicum of intimidation, at least helping maintain the fragile rules and order that remained. Besides, what had he actually done? At most, he had provided an unused factory building and a batch of cheap supplies nearing expiration. Even so, countless people already viewed this as mere posturing and virtue signaling. Some had even hinted: these are all prime free labor; don't be too greedy, leave some for the rest of us, let's share the spoils... In the Haian factory complex today, the number of victims had swelled more than a dozen times over compared to what the church had originally brought, pushing the facility to its absolute limit. It truly could not withstand any mishaps or unrest. Compared to the interim government's relief zones, which had deteriorated into near dens of horrors, this place was already an orderly, stable sanctuary. He cared nothing for reputation or profits; he only sought to see things through decently from start to finish. That was best for others, for himself, and for everyone. Those permitted entry had already been screened once. Unlike the coolie labor camps that accepted only able-bodied young adults, the Haian factory took in anyone regardless of age or gender, provided they held a good deed badge from the Church of Chongguang that matched the church's registry. Such cheap trinkets could be obtained simply by completing five hours of volunteer service with the church. The requirements were extraordinarily broad—responding to the Order's call to repair one's own roof counted, as did cooking communal meals in relief kitchens. Anyone who earned such a badge had, at the very least, extended a small helping hand to others. Now, the privilege extended to family members as well, up to three people. Exerting every resource at Ji Jue's disposal, this was all he could manage. Compared to the massive sea of refugees outside, it was a drop in the ocean. Naturally, public security deteriorated rapidly. Though peace and festivities carried on inside the city behind layers of checkpoints and barbed wire, there were always "fish that slipped through the net," sneaking into the city and spoiling the gentlemen's leisure. Yet no matter how strictly they guarded day and night, vicious incidents broke out frequently. The aftereffects had begun to surface. With the death of the typhoon calamity beast, the pollution it left behind steadily poured into this land already rife with corruption, quietly warping the environment. In the days to come, even a worm crawling out of the soil here could mutate into an aberration—to say nothing of mutated beasts or even calamity beasts. Under such extreme conditions, people driven to desperation had no choice other than killing one another, or choosing to blow everyone up together. Over the radio, reports of extremist attacks grew increasingly frequent. Tacheng's Central Police Department was even hit by a parcel bomb. All at once, the demand for security and stability skyrocketed like never before. So it was that, by sheer coincidence, the police model of the Riot Cat found an explosive market, appearing on streets and alleys everywhere. Gimmicks like bomb-sniffing dogs and drones—whether they actually worked was obvious the moment they were tested in the field. And after experiencing the sense of security provided by an intelligent riot-control robotic guardian vigilant against all hazards twenty-four hours a day, patrol officers could never go back. After all, very few could stomach a life where people opened fire randomly or pulled pins on suicide vests while walking down the street. Having done virtually nothing, Haichao Armaments inexplicably emerged as the biggest winner of this catastrophe. Amidst the surging demand, Old Gou leaped from an obscure nobody to a sought-after figure, with dignitaries lining up to place orders. The ornamental interim presidential palace bought over a hundred units in one go. In the face of the absurdly inflated military procurement prices, they didn't even haggle—they actually found excuses to pay extra! They were evidently scared out of their wits. On television and radio broadcasts, His Excellency the President fretted day and night for the nation and its people, nearly falling gravely ill from overwork. As for whether conditions improved, that was another matter entirely. The more chaotic it was outside the city, the more solemn and tense things grew inside. It reached the point where a sentry stood every three paces and a checkpoint every five. Even the police, usually prone to slacking off, worked around the clock under the orders and tongue-lashings of their superiors, handling the bloody cases cropping up continuously across the city. Yet two days later, less than a fifth of the backlog of cases had been processed. There were endless headaches, but they still had to be dealt with. After receiving a call from a neighbor, a rookie officer who hadn't slept soundly in days arrived at a crime scene. Pinching his nose inside a detached villa reeking of rotting corpses, he snapped a few photos haphazardly to complete the procedure, filing it as a family massacre. Any actual investigation or search was nowhere in sight. Throughout it all, the Riot Cat assisting from behind stood in a corner, quietly gazing at the mangled mess of blood and flesh, its warning lights flashing silently. Through its modified camera lenses, an aura belonging to the Plague of the Lord of the Flies gradually materialized, thick layers of ink-black staining enveloping the scene. [Observation protocol triggered and initiated] [Status recording complete] [Upload initiated—Upload complete—] [Spiritus sample comparative analysis concluded] [Target verified; emergency sequence triggered; all-system preheating initiated] At that exact moment, in the workshop, Ji Jue—who was tuning Zhanlu—paused in his movements. On the table beside him, his phone screen suddenly lit up. [The Wolf Has Come].