Oasis

At the crack of dawn the next day, a man with a face lined with wrinkles and sunspots, looking just like an old herdsman, arrived on a tricycle. Speaking in a thick local dialect and gesturing animatedly, he explained his errand. From Correra's hands, he received several carefully wrapped books, glanced at them, muttered something under his breath, tossed them carelessly into the truck bed behind him, turned around, and left. Clutching crumpled banknotes, he bought a few packets of spices, two lambs, and a barrel of cheap liquor at the market. With his tricycle puttering loudly, he vanished into the wind and sand outside the city. After traveling for another day, he arrived at a desolate village. "What's this?" Gathering around, the villagers tore open the parcels. Looking at the colorful illustrations inside, their faces fell with disappointment. "Not even a naked broad! What the hell did you buy? Too stiff even to wipe your ass with—" The old tricycle driver snatched the items back, expressionless. "What are you pawing at? Don't get them filthy." With a hint of distaste, he raised his sleeve and wiped away the dirty fingerprints. "The mountain asked for these." Instantly, silence fell over the crowd. The next day, an old peasant drove a mule huffing and puffing up the mountain. He knocked on the gate of a dilapidated monastery and carried the grain, rice, and flour along with the parcels inside. A sun-blackened old monk lifted a kettle and treated him to a bowl of butter tea, chatting briefly about recent conditions in the village and whether there was any trouble. Afterward, the old peasant drove his empty mule back down the mountain. A few days later, at dawn, several bare-chested young monks carried heavy woven baskets down the mountain once again. They walked several li and loaded the baskets and parcels onto a battered truck. Squeezed into the truck bed alongside cattle and sheep, the cargo rattled and jolted through clouds of dust, eventually vanishing beneath clouds impenetrable to satellites. It traversed canyons and checkpoints until reaching a bustling lakeside. Dust rose amid the clamor and activity of a construction site. Shouting in the local dialect, the driver jumped down from the cab and called for others to unload the cargo. The woven baskets thudded onto the ground, the lids fell open, and golden bullets spilled and tumbled out, mixing with sheep droppings and drawing a string of curses from the foreman. Crates packed with firearm components were sorted and carried into crude workshops, where workers quickly assembled them into finished weapons. The books that had dropped into a puddle of mud were also picked up, their stains carefully wiped away. A middle-aged man with spectacles and a goatee flipped through them, his face breaking into an uncontrollable grin. Clutching the books, he trotted toward the maintenance workshop. "Mr. Ji! Mr. Ji!" He shouted, scanning his surroundings. "The things you asked for have arrived!" From beneath a hoisted vehicle chassis, a young man with grease-covered hands poked his head out. He glanced over, gave an acknowledging grunt, and pointed at a marked crack. "It's nothing major. For this kind of suspension, just stack some steel plates and weld a new one later. It's not complicated at all. "Given the road conditions in the White Nation, no matter how good the quality is, everything's a consumable. Doing it yourself saves trouble; just keep an eye on it during daily use." The mechanic standing beside him nodded repeatedly, asking cautiously, "What about the engine?" "Nothing wrong with the engine—just replace a valve. Repairing cars isn't building them from scratch. Later, strip down a few more cars and take a look, and you'll understand. Most problems are more or less the same, nothing novel. Be bold with your repairs. The worst that happens is it breaks, and it was broken to begin with anyway. "In a bit, I'll teach you a trick for welding a chassis out of steel pipes. Dead simple—anyone with hands can do it." Crawling out from under the car, the man wiped his hands, took the books handed over by the goateed man, flipped through them, and picked out two. "These are pretty good for beginners. As for reading and writing, you translate them. Combine theory with hands-on practice, and basically most of the camp's problems can be sorted out." "Have some water, Mr. Ji." "Have some fruit, Mr. Ji." "Have a smoke, Mr. Ji. Try this one—it packs a punch—" Enthusiastic locals crowded around in an endless stream, seizing the chance to ask questions. Chattering back and forth, they were so engrossed that they failed to notice their leader standing by the entrance, his expression darkening by the second. "The lot of you—what's with this lack of respect?" Ni Lin barked. "Is this any way to treat a guest? I was only gone for a moment!" For a moment, the workshop fell dead silent. In their shock, the locals seemed to finally remember just who it was they had been clapping on the shoulder and talking to so familiarly. It wasn't that they lacked reverence or respect, but after sitting down and chatting, before they knew it... Ji Jue, on the other hand, couldn't care less. "I had nothing better to do, and my hands were itching, so I figured I'd return to my old trade." Ji Jue waved his hand enthusiastically, pointing at the car he had fixed that afternoon. "Scrapping it was premature. It can easily run another few thousand kilometers, right?" He slapped the rust-pocked body twice, and a resonant honk sounded from the horn as though in reply. "...Boss..." Ni Lin's face twitched. He hesitated, at a loss for words. Falling into step behind Ji Jue, he held his tongue for a long while before finally sighing. "A man like you could achieve great things in whatever you choose to do. Why waste your time on things like this?" "Doesn't fixing cars count as an achievement?" Ji Jue shook his head nonchalantly. "I think it's pretty good. At the very least, it's quite stress-relieving—scavenging through junk piles, patching up old vehicles, with no need to worry about messing things up or making mistakes. "And don't be so uptight. I'm just wandering around because I've got free time—treat it as a vacation. If you keep acting like this, I might have to move on." "Aside from windblown sand and desolate desert, what is there to see in the White Nation?" Ni Lin said with a bitter smile. "Our hospitality can hardly even be called proper." "Stop clinging to the old customs from when you served the White King. What era is this?" Ji Jue yawned. "If I truly wanted to be a warlord king, I'd still be sitting in Tacheng drinking champagne right now." Strolling leisurely past the final high wall, they looked out at green shoots stretching to the horizon. Newly sown rice seedlings swayed in the breeze like rolling waves. It was hard to imagine that such an oasis existed nestled among treacherous mountains, capable of supporting crops and grazing, preserving the last embers of hope for a nation stripped of everything long ago. Compared to the chaos of war outside, this was a tranquil paradise. Ever since the upheaval a few months ago when the White Stag devoured the wolf, under the calling of Sovereign Virtue, Celestial Chosen of the White Stag throughout the White Nation and the Mid-Continent had been springing up like bamboo shoots after rain. Meanwhile, the influence of the Federation and the Empire had begun to contract rapidly; they had even voluntarily abandoned some secondary resource regions to ensure a stable supply of phlogiston. Like a beast breaking free of countless shackles to return to the wilderness, the White Nation swung from localized necrosis straight into full-blown pandemonium. Every region and settlement erupted into passionate performances, descending into an all-out brawl as though they had walked into some end-of-the-century martial wasteland. To seize power, realize ambitions, or even rebuild their homeland, countless figures rushed onto the stage. In just a few short months, a chaotic mess of factions—from the White Nation Tiger Army to the White King's Guard, the Mid-Continent United Front, the Tacheng Salvation Society, and more—rose and fell in turn. They killed one another and vied for control in an ever-escalating frenzy. Outside of a handful of cities and military-controlled zones, the situation across the White Nation had spiraled completely out of hand. There was no shortage of thugs and lapdogs backed by the Federation and the Empire, but unfortunately, most struggled to survive for long— Because they died simply too fast! One day negotiations would be going smoothly, the next day the adjutant took over, and by the third day the entire army had been crushed by an enemy raid. Compared to the warlords furiously expanding outside, the White Nation Restoration Army organized by Ni Lin grew quietly and steadily in secret. Aside from occasional raids on refineries or phlogiston transport routes, it remained completely silent. As a former Royal Guard, Ni Lin possessed a share of the former White King's influence, enough to exercise authority in his stead. And as the last recipient of the royal decree, the recognition and blessing the Priest King had bestowed upon him were clearly discernible to every priest. Setting aside a roadside mutt like Lu Changsheng, the prestige and authority of the former White King had converged almost entirely upon Ni Lin alone. What White Nation native who knew the truth wouldn't weep with gratitude over the sacrifices made and the blood shed by the Priest King for their land? Ni Lin didn't even need to raise a rallying cry; so long as he expressed an intention to revive the nation, countless people flocked to him. With the full assistance of the surviving priests, they preserved the ancient traditions from before the White Nation entered modern times. Centering on monks, priests, and villages, and using tradition and faith as bonds, they aided one another and exchanged supplies through regular gatherings, spreading their influence to every corner of the White Nation. It could be said that today, every village and every nomad in the wilderness of the White Nation served as the eyes and ears of the Restoration Army. Even if the vast majority lacked the fighting spirit to reclaim everything or the resolve to sacrifice themselves, the popular sentiment fostered by this tradition alone was enough to lay a profound foundation for the Restoration Army. Over the course of a few months, with material resources and assistance from various parties, this oasis had grown increasingly prosperous. Like a newly formed heart, it beat silently, nurturing and pumping fresh blood. Gathering strength, awaiting its moment. "No rush. Take it slow." Ji Jue skipped a few stones across the lake with keen interest. Feeling the cool breeze blowing past, he gazed at everything before him and gave a soft laugh. "Isn't this pretty nice too?" Ni Lin smiled, nodded slowly, and was just about to speak. "Woohoo, taking off!" An excited shout drifted from the distant lakeside. A young man, stripped completely bare, was running around with a group of excited children. With a flying leap, he plunged into the lake with a loud splash and paddled across the water. Ji Jue: ... Ni Lin: "..." In the brief silence, Ji Jue looked away, intending to pretend nothing had happened. Unfortunately, the young man swam splashing back with a wide grin on his face. As he swam toward them, he waved and shouted, "Mr. Inayat, what are you—" As he swam closer, he realized something was wrong. By the time he tried to turn back, it was already too late. Looking up, he stared blankly at a face he had never expected to see here. His face twitched. Then twitched again. "...M-Mr. Ji?" In his shock, Yan Fei forced a strained, ingratiating smile. "Y-you're here?" "Indeed. Your brother said you've been risking life and limb out here, braving wind and rain, and was worried you were having too hard a time. He specifically asked me to drop by and check on you when I came over." Ji Jue nodded with a smile, speaking with praise: "Seems you're having quite a lot of fun, aren't you? Hope I didn't interrupt?" "N-no, not at all!" The energetic lad's eyes went wide as he snapped to attention in the water, nearly blowing bubbles and sinking into the lake. A hand hauled him right back up. "Don't be nervous. You're already this old, yet still so reckless." Ji Jue's smile was warm and gentle as he patted his shoulder. "Balance work and rest. An artisan needs a sturdy physique too. You're not looking half bad, kid!" He paused, his smile turning increasingly cheerful. "Though... the homework I assigned you—you definitely finished it all, right?" "A-almost!" Yan Fei swallowed hard, nodding with difficulty, and tried to make a break for it. "I'll go right now—" "Hey, no rush. Homework isn't that important anyway—doesn't matter whether you do it or not!" The moment he thought of what was coming next, the corners of Ji Jue's mouth curled higher and higher. "I just remembered that our lineage actually has a fine tradition!" Recalling the fond guidance and hands-on teaching he had received from his own teacher in the past—or rather, just half a month ago—he suddenly felt a surge of pure joy. "Since I'm already here, let's have a lesson!" In the silence, Yan Fei said nothing. He only turned his head to look back at the expanse of lake water behind him, cursing himself for failing to sink straight to the bottom earlier. At least the water was deep enough to hide his cold sweat, and cold enough to hide his tears...