Time for a Reckoning

The conference room fell dead silent. Eyes filled with varying shades of emotion darted toward the man rising from the conference table. Director Feng's face initially registered bewilderment, which swiftly morphed into indignation before a hint of wariness crept into his eyes. Guixu's reaction was quite the opposite. He narrowed his eyes slightly, a barely perceptible flicker of murderous intent gleaming in his pupils. He recognized that face. The man was named Malik, captain of the Desert Scorpion Special Forces, suspended and placed under investigation months ago after a mission failure that incurred catastrophic losses. Coinciding with the Enlightenment Society entering an "operational downsizing phase" with no demand for external military operations, the Desert Scorpion unit had never been reformed, leaving the man on standby in Shelter 13. Were it not for the high-ranking synthetics parachuted in by the Celestials increasingly usurping authority that rightfully belonged to him, leaving him with few usable subordinates, he never would have bothered promoting this fellow. Even less had Guixu anticipated that this dog he had personally elevated would suddenly go mad and bite his hand. Before he could even make a move, the Celestial representative stood up with a darkened expression. "What do you mean by that?" A pair of electronic eyes flickered with an unnerving red glow. The bionic codenamed "Tianlei" stared unblinkingly at "Malik," making no effort to conceal his blatant murderous intent. Facing that death-laden gaze, Zhuang Lan—disguised as Malik—showed not the slightest panic. For this emotionless lump of iron, perhaps this murderous impulse was the only real thing left. She harbored no doubt. The moment these beings seized control of the world, they would instantly turn their weapons around and push the purge to an even more thorough extreme, until every single heretic in their eyes was eliminated. Without answering the bionic's question, Zhuang Lan did not even look at him. She merely swept her eyes over the bewildered, suspicious faces along the conference table and spoke in an even voice. "You have been shut away in here for too long. You have no idea what is happening outside." "Months ago, the Alliance seized control of the missile cruiser *Orion*. One hundred thousand neutron torpedoes are now in the hands of the allied survivor factions." "The game is over." "Beyond the shelter's blast doors stand survivors united as one. No matter which direction you attempt to attack, you will be surrounded and annihilated from all sides the instant you move." "Heaven's Punishment may fall, but it will never fall upon anyone's head except your own—" "Shut up!" A hysterical roar interrupted her words. Zhuang Lan looked toward the source. Shelter 13's Director Feng was panting heavily, glaring fixedly at her through bloodshot eyes. It was a gaze of venomous, bone-deep hatred. As if he wished nothing more than to flay the hide belonging to "Malik" right off her bones. Without waiting for Guixu or Tianqi to speak, he bristled like a cat whose tail had been stepped on. "Utter nonsense! The *Orion* is a legacy asset of the Human Alliance Aerospace Force! Even if those filthy survivors somehow managed to climb aboard, there is no way they could obtain piloting authorization! Not to mention that starship has long been firmly in our hands—they wouldn't even get the chance to approach it!" Though that hysterical bellow carried a touch of incoherence, it still possessed basic logic. The survivors seated at the conference table exchanged glances, the initial panic in their eyes subsiding somewhat. Indeed— The *Orion* was an active-duty warship of the Human Alliance Aerospace Force. Even if the Human Alliance no longer existed, a few scavengers could hardly just walk aboard and salvage it like scrap metal. The space station at the Lagrange point was still operational. Only a regime recognized by the Aerospace Force could legally inherit the legacy that once belonged to the Human Alliance. Those wastelanders living outside the shelter were nothing more than usurpers. Watching the whispering shelter residents and the hysterical director, Zhuang Lan's gaze held a trace of pity, mixed with a sliver of contempt. These people had long forgotten their original vows. They had been born into a paradise like the shelter not by virtue of any natural-born entitlement, but because two centuries ago, a far nobler group of people chose to face hell head-on, bequeathing the hope of survival to those who cowered in these bunkers. Their forebears had once solemnly sworn to press forward bearing the souls of those who perished, to rebuild a home for humanity upon the desolate wasteland, and to treat the children struggling in that living hell as their own. Yet now, their descendants had unquestionably betrayed the oaths of their ancestors. Their solution to problems was to slaughter the problem along with everyone raising it. Perhaps— The suffering they were enduring was merely a link in the chain of retribution. Just like the radiance they once carried. Both existed side by side. A seed of enlightenment bloomed in Zhuang Lan's heart, and she finally understood why that man had granted her freedom. This was indeed an act of redemption that only she—or rather, the shelter residents themselves—could accomplish. Parting her dry lips, she spoke slowly. "...It is a fact, and it happened months ago." Watching the hysterical face gradually stain with fear and despair, Zhuang Lan continued in a calm voice. "Months ago, I, too, was baffled as to why the *Orion* would grant authorization to wastelanders, to civilians... But now, not a shred of doubt remains in my mind. Their choice was the truest choice of all." The air froze into stillness. Director Feng stared at her, utterly crestfallen, before casting a desperate glance toward Guixu in search of answers. That look practically pleaded: *Tell me this isn't true.* Guixu put on an exasperated expression, let out a sigh, and was just about to say something when a look from Tianqi cut him off. There was no longer any need. In truth, even without "Malik" laying it bare, rumors that the *Orion* had fallen had been circulating months ago. Right now, this was merely piercing the thin layer of paper that concealed the truth. Zhuang Lan glanced at the sneering Guixu, then at the bionic representative watching her with cold, mechanical eyes, instantly grasping their intent. They had no intention of keeping up the charade any longer—and that had been true even before this meeting began. Indeed. Given the forces the Enlightenment Society and the Celestials had gathered in Shelter 13, while insufficient to wage an open war against the unified survivor powers on the surface, dealing with a handful of unruly shelter residents presented little difficulty. Their undisguised expressions made it blindingly obvious— *Say whatever you want.* *Our cards are on the table.* Fair enough. This farce had reached its final act anyway. Rather than exposing their duplicity, Zhuang Lan turned her gaze back to Director Feng and the few shelter residents seated beside him who still clung to wishful thinking, speaking in a chilly voice. "You pinned your hopes on a pack of executioners, banking on them ruthlessly murdering everyone who opposed you and held different opinions, expecting to pretend nothing happened afterward, that the underlying problems would resolve themselves, and a glorious utopia would arrive on its own—" "What a childish delusion." "Where did you find the confidence that a blade steeped in human blood since its inception would one day suddenly be used to peel fruit? Where did you find the confidence that you would be the one-in-ten-thousand lucky soul, rather than becoming the next problem to be cut down?" "The reckoning will come soon—both at the Lagrange point space station and right here." "Wake up. This is your last chance." With those final words, Zhuang Lan fell silent, leaving the remaining time to the people seated around the conference table. Yet the outcome was disappointing. Even when the daggers were drawn and the truth laid bare, not a single person stood up to repent their foolishness or speak a word in her defense. It was not that they could not wake up; they simply refused to. Such was the so-called noble bloodline sheltered beneath the fading afterglow of their forebears, dwelling in peace upon the wasteland for far too long. They would rather suffer the consequences of their mistakes than admit a mistake existed in the first place. Looking at the averted gazes and the dazed shelter director who looked as if his soul had been sucked out, total disappointment finally settled in Zhuang Lan's eyes. Just then, clapping suddenly broke the silence of the conference room. The sharp, crisp clapping sounded less like hands striking together and more like slaps across their faces. Zhuang Lan traced the sound. The person was none of the survivors present, but rather Tianqi, who had been watching coldly from the sidelines all along. "Well said, but utterly meaningless." Seeing all eyes turn toward him, he offered a chilling smile, lowered his hands, and no longer hid the marrow-chilling frost in his scarlet eyes. "I share your view. These wretches cowering in the shelter are not worthy of calling themselves heirs to the Era of Prosperity. From start to finish, they have done nothing but wait for us to bestow victory upon them. If you ask me... they are inferior even to the wastelanders outside." "Y-You... how could you speak of us that way?" Director Feng stared with wide eyes, terror flashing in his pupils. The instant his mouth opened to speak—*Bang!*—a deafening blast punched straight through the tabletop and struck his knee. Losing his balance, Feng Zhiheng slammed his head hard against the table before curling onto the floor in twisted agony, half of his trousers instantly soaked in crimson. That shot had likely severed an artery. Seeing the director gunned down, uproar erupted across the conference room. Even Guixu, who had been prepared to cast aside all pretenses, looked taken aback, not expecting the Celestials to act with such ruthless decisiveness. The shooter was the synthetic security guard standing by the conference room door. Immediately after firing that single shot, he swung the butt of his rifle around, smashing his bewildered human colleague to the ground and confiscating the man's weapon. Without missing a beat, he trained his sights on Zhuang Lan where she stood, waiting only for Tianqi's command to squeeze the trigger and riddle her with bullets. During the previous security protocol upgrades, the Enlightenment Society had already seized administrative privileges over Shelter 13's security system and placed it under the control of the Lagrange point space station. This was precisely why Guixu had never taken the shelter director seriously— The fragmented, incomplete administrator privileges in that man's hands were nothing more than a minor nuisance to the Enlightenment Society. "Who gave you permission to speak to me standing up, bug?" Looking down at Director Feng writhing in agony beneath the conference table, Tianqi curled his lips into a sneer, his turbulent sapience plugin finally experiencing a measure of tranquility. Indeed— Only a dead organism was a good organism. Their sole use was to be rendered into slurry-like organic ore to supply the raw materials required for synthetic components. Though pursuing higher evolution had been his and the Church of the Torch's lifelong quest, beholding this pathetic sight, he suddenly found himself far less eager to return to flesh and blood. In truth, they had already completed higher evolution long ago. What they were right now was perfection. Sensing the murderous aura permeating the air, Guixu suddenly felt a chill at the back of his neck. To cover his awkwardness, he coughed softly, stood up, straightened his collar with both hands, and addressed the survivors trembling in the corner. "All right. I wanted to speak with you cordially... but you insisted on forcing my hand." Tossing out those words, he strolled leisurely over to "Malik," measuring him up and down with his eyes. "You aren't Malik... Let me guess who you are." Zhuang Lan let out a cold laugh, her voice icy. "No need to guess. My name is Zhuang Lan, from Shelter 68." Bewilderment surfaced on Guixu's face. "Zhuang Lan..." The name sounded somewhat familiar. He racked his brain for a long moment before finally remembering who this person was. She was the spy he had dispatched to Shelter 0 to steal the original documents of Project Torch—a clown who had bungled the entire affair. She had failed to eliminate the primary target, only managing to kill an irrelevant Wilante officer. Later, she was captured by the Alliance, and he had assumed she was dead, never expecting her to still be breathing. Looking at this unexpected acquaintance, Guixu could not help bursting into laughter. "I see. The Alliance didn't execute you after all, hahaha... But that aside, how on earth did you end up looking like this?" Watching the president laugh brazenly, Zhuang Lan replied with a faint, mocking smile. "Aren't disguise and deception your customary parlor tricks? How is it that when the same trick is used on you, your sharp eyes go blind?" Guixu's smile cooled. "A holographic projection?" "Yes." Zhuang Lan readily admitted it. Abandoning the act entirely, she deactivated the optical camouflage over her frame. "Though not entirely." She had indeed undergone a full suite of cybernetic overhaul surgeries, even having organs implanted that she had never originally possessed. As for the holographic disguise, it was hiding something else entirely— A pale blue ripple propagated outward. Amid rings of transparent waves, a silver-gray exoskeleton instantly materialized. The moment he saw that exoskeleton, Guixu's smile froze solid on his face. How had she brought that thing into the conference hall? Could it be— She had an inside accomplice?! Even with an insider, how had she managed to slip past the synthetics?! Without giving him time to think, Zhuang Lan seized him by the throat, hoisting the mastermind who lurked behind the curtain into the air like a helpless chick. "I will never forget what happened that day in Shelter 68, nor what you did to swindle our trust. If not for the bigger picture, I would have killed you long ago." Bone-deep killing intent seeped through her tactical visor as her right hand tightened slightly. "Repent in hell, scumbag." It all occurred so abruptly that no one had time to react. Guixu looked pleadingly toward his Celestial allies, yet they looked on with utter indifference, their frigid eyes resembling spectators watching two crickets claw at each other. He plummeted into complete despair. So that was it. From start to finish, these machines had merely been using them. Of course, there was hardly room for complaint. The alliance between the Enlightenment Society and the Celestials was rooted in mutual exploitation from the beginning. When he first contacted the Celestials, he had harbored the exact same intentions, already plotting when to kick these heaps of scrap to the curb. What he had not anticipated was that before the game had even concluded, he would already have lost all value in their eyes... They had no further need of him. His spirit shattered, his mind turned to ash. Amid the agonizing suffocation, his lingering consciousness slowly sank into a bottomless ocean... Zhuang Lan did not kill him. She merely choked him into unconsciousness while planting a nanoscale tracking beacon on his person, ensuring that no matter how far he ran, he could be tracked down. This man was not just her personal enemy; he was one of the prime war criminals responsible for triggering this entire catastrophe. Dying here was far too lenient a fate. He deserved to face trial before a court of law and hang from a pillory of shame. Tianqi clearly saw that the man was still alive. Yet regarding the life or death of an organic whose utility was spent, he showed little concern. He merely fixed his cold eyes on Zhuang Lan as she turned to face him, offering a mocking sneer. "What, planning to use him as a hostage?" "I never considered it. Besides, that would be meaningless against you." Rolling her neck, she unclipped two curved blades magnetically locked to the exoskeleton. Forged from ceramite, these combat blades were more than sufficient to carve through a few heaps of scrap iron. "Time to settle this, humanoid tin can. Let's see how many pounds of rust you've got in that skull of yours." "Heh, I've been waiting to hear you say that, organic." A cruel smile crossed Tianqi's face, his scarlet pupils blazing with torchlike malice. "Kill her!" Gunfire erupted instantly, a hail of bullets lashing toward Zhuang Lan like a torrential downpour. In a flash of lightning, she flipped over the conference table, hooking a chair with the curved spine of her blade and hurling it violently toward the doorway. The chair struck the synthetic's rifle dead-on, sending muzzle flare wildly sweeping into a corner of the conference room. "Aaargh!" Screams and wails rose in succession. The participants crouching with their hands over their heads pulled themselves even tighter into balls, desperate to squeeze into the cracks of the walls. No one spared a thought for Guixu lying unconscious in the corner. Whether they were Shelter 13 residents or people from other shelters who had joined the Enlightenment Society, they were now like ants on a scorching pan. Meanwhile, stabilizing her footing on the opposite side of the conference table, Zhuang Lan lashed out with her blade, cutting down a synthetic reaching for a concealed weapon. Letting go of the hilt mid-swing, she snatched the half-drawn pistol straight from the shower of dancing electrical sparks and emptied the magazine toward the entrance! *Bang! Bang! Bang!* The synthetic guard who had just recovered his balance took ten rounds straight to the chest. Its control modules and metal casing shattered together into debris, and it collapsed without a sound. Without reloading, Zhuang Lan tossed the empty handgun back into the synthetic's hollowed chest, smoothly pulled out the curved blade impaled in its torso, and turned a razor-sharp glare toward Tianqi. The latter continued to watch her unmoved, his cold sneer devoid of the slightest concern. "Impressive skills. Too bad they are utterly meaningless. Do you really believe one person can turn the world upside down?" A heavy rush of footsteps echoed down the corridor, drawing closer and closer to the doorway. A large detachment of bodyguards was rushing toward the room. All of them were bionic soldiers authorized directly by the Lagrange point space station! Flicking the twin curved blades in her hands, Zhuang Lan answered through her exoskeleton's tactical helmet with an identical cold sneer. "Who told you I was alone?"