Luo Yang gripped the phone, the cuts on his knuckles from the glass shards still seeping blood. Droplets of red trailed down the edge of the phone case and dripped into the mud at his feet.
Li Jinqi’s breathing through the receiver was as heavy as a broken bellows, and the background was filled with nothing but static.
Luo Yang pressed the phone tightly against his ear, his voice extremely low yet forceful as he ground out every word.
“Old Director. South City Industrial Park. Over twenty people from the Third Section, including Qian Yao. Heavy casualties. We need immediate evacuation. Send vehicles—as fast as possible.”
Silence hung on the other end for two seconds.
It wasn’t a signal delay; it was Li Jinqi hesitating. The hesitation was slight, so subtle it was just a missed beat in his breathing, but Luo Yang caught it.
“So it’s you, kid.” There was a hint of relief in Li Jinqi’s voice. “Luo Yang, listen to me.”
“We’re short-handed everywhere. Every mobile unit I can deploy is already out there. I don’t have a single reserve left.”
Li Jinqi spoke rapidly, as if racing against a deadline.
“The mutant beast riot in South City isn’t as simple as it looks. In just the last few minutes, we’ve confirmed no fewer than thirty Level 3 mutant beasts. Level 2s and 1s are so numerous we can’t even count them accurately anymore. This is essentially a Beast Tide.”
“Reinforcements from the provincial bureau and other units are on the way, but the earliest they can reach South City is half an hour.”
“However, the latest observations show that while there are still many active combat zones, the mutant beasts are beginning a general retreat. Although their motive is unknown, I think Yuanxing City has escaped a disaster this time.”
Luo Yang’s breath hitched for a moment. Only upon hearing the news of the Beast Tide’s retreat did a sense of relief wash over him.
He looked down at Qian Yao slumped by the tire. The man’s chest was still weakly rising and falling, but the blackened stump of his leg had stopped bleeding. He was nearly out of blood to lose.
“I don’t need reinforcements; I just need vehicles,” Luo Yang’s voice steadied. “Anything that can carry people. Even trucks will do.”
“I can send vehicles.”
Li Jinqi’s voice suddenly turned somber. “Two large ambulances with a medical team. I can deploy them now, but there’s a situation you need to know.”
“Speak.”
“These two vehicles only have medical and transport capabilities. No combat personnel will accompany them. The medical team just withdrew from the front lines at the South Viaduct. You know the situation there—it’s full of wounded; they can’t handle combat missions.”
Li Jinqi emphasized every word heavily, as if reading an official document, his tone carrying a business-like stiffness.
“I can’t assess the level of road damage, and I certainly can’t guarantee the number of mutant beasts along the way. Whether these two vehicles can reach the industrial park, whether they can pick you up if they do, and whether they can make it back to the rear alive if they get you out—”
He paused.
“I can’t give you any guarantees on any of that. The only assurance is that the medics on board can treat your injuries. That’s it.”
Luo Yang leaned against the off-road vehicle’s front bumper. The night wind rushed into his collar, stinging the acid-corroded wound below his collarbone. The pain made the corner of his mouth twitch.
“Send the vehicles,” he said.
On the other end of the line, Li Jinqi took a deep breath, and after a short while, let it out.
“Fine. Send the coordinates.”
“I can’t.”
Luo Yang looked at the mud-caked phone in his hand. The signal bars in the upper right corner of the screen flickered between one bar and none.
“The battery is almost dead, and the signal is unstable. I’ll report the location verbally. Note it down quickly.”
He dictated the coordinates of the industrial park’s ore processing plant word by word. The sound of a pen scratching across paper came from Li Jinqi’s end. Just as the last digit was spoken, the phone screen went black.
He placed the phone beside Qian Yao and stood up, bracing himself on his knees.
His body swayed, and he had to press a hand against the vehicle’s hood to steady himself.
“Old Qian.” He looked down at Qian Yao’s pale, ashen face, his voice deep. “The vehicles are on the way. Hold on for me, do you hear?!”
Qian Yao didn’t respond. His eyelids were completely closed, and only the imperceptible movement of his chest proved he was still breathing.
The remnants of the Third Section began to arrive from behind in small groups.
The deputy captain, carrying the unconscious, heavily wounded man, led the way. When he saw Qian Yao slumped by the tire, his entire body stiffened, and the shoulder carrying the man slumped half an inch.
“Section Chief...”
“He’s not dead,” Luo Yang interrupted. “Gather all the wounded here. The ambulances will be here soon. Those who can still move, go clear the surrounding roads. Don’t let stalled cars or rubble block the path.”
The deputy captain gently lowered the wounded man, then turned and shouted to the people behind him, “Anyone who can move, come with me to clear the road!”
Seven or eight people, dragging broken blades and rebar, followed him.
The remaining wounded sat down by the off-road vehicle, supporting each other and using torn sleeves to press against their bleeding wounds.
No one cried, and no one cursed. They were so exhausted they didn’t even have the strength left to weep.
...
Meanwhile, at the temporary medical point behind the South Viaduct.
When Li Jinqi’s call came in, the leader of the medical team was crouching by the rear step of an ambulance, wrapping a piece of gauze around a fresh gash on the web of his right hand caused by shrapnel.
His white coat had long since lost its original color, the cuffs and collar caked with semi-dried plasma.
His own blood mixed with that of the wounded, hardening into a crust that flaked off with every movement.
The phone vibrated three times before he answered.
After Li Jinqi finished explaining the mission, the leader’s movements stopped.
“Director, could you say that again?”
Li Jinqi repeated his words, verbatim.
The leader clenched the unfinished gauze in his palm so tightly that the edges squeezed through his fingers, causing the wound on his hand to tear open again.
“From the South Viaduct to the industrial park, it’s a straight distance of just over six kilometers. But several main roads are cut off, and the service roads are mostly blocked. The actual detour will be at least ten kilometers.”
“The route passes through three active combat zones, one of which was reported just ten minutes ago—over a dozen Level 2 mutant beasts were spotted.”
He reported these statistics, then paused, his voice suddenly growing quiet.
“And you said there’s no Punisher support? Not even one?”
“Not even one,” Li Jinqi’s answer was curt, almost cruel.
The leader fell silent for two seconds. Several nearby medics who were treating the wounded heard the conversation, and their movements slowed in unison.
A female nurse who was dressing a wound looked up, the roll of gauze in her mouth nearly falling out.
“Director, there are four of us on this vehicle. I’m the only medical-type Punisher, and the other three are ordinary people without any abilities.”
The leader’s speech also quickened. “One with light injuries, two with moderate abrasions—I’m the only one who isn’t banged up. We don’t even have proper weapons; the vehicle only has tourniquets and painkiller injections. If we run into mutant beasts on the way—”
“I know,” Li Jinqi interrupted him. “That’s why I can’t guarantee you’ll come back alive. Li Xin, whether you take this mission or not is for you to decide.”
Li Xin loosened his grip on the gauze and looked down at the reopened wound on his hand.
Beads of blood bubbled from the edges, trailing down his thumb toward his palm.
He suddenly let out a low laugh.
It was faint, squeezed from between his teeth, so small only he could hear it.
“We’ll take it,” he said. “When do we move?”
“Now.”
Li Jinqi’s voice suddenly rose half a pitch, taking on a commanding tone.
“Depart within five minutes. I’ll sync the route to the vehicle’s navigation system in real-time. The signal there is terrible. Once you reach the industrial park, find that kid Luo Yang; he’ll be waiting for you. Bring him and the Third Section people back.”
“Take as many as you can. If you have to, make another trip.”
Li Xin hung up the phone, slapped the blood-stained gauze onto the ground, and stood up, shouting toward the ambulances.
“Stop whatever you’re doing! Empty the vehicles! Hang the emergency equipment from the ceiling brackets and cover the empty floor with mats! Xiao Wang, check the fuel! Xiao Zhang, get all the spare first-aid kits out and prep them! Move!”
The medical team was stunned for a moment before springing into action like a wound-up clockwork.
Someone opened the ambulance’s rear hatch, pushed the stretchers to the far side, and secured them with zip ties.
Someone else crouched at the back, checking the emergency gear and counting on their fingers to see if they had enough hemostatic drugs and painkillers.
Mid-shout, the leader noticed several Punishers who had been lying on folding stretchers near the ambulance struggling to sit up.
Their combat uniforms were in tatters, and the bandages on their arms were still seeping blood, but they all stood up.
“There’s no one else left to fight, is there?” The man in the lead adjusted his crooked shoulder guard with one hand.
His left eye was slashed, and half his face was smeared with dried blood, but his remaining eye looked at the leader with unexpected calm.
“Then let us go with you.”
Li Xin was about to refuse when several more people stood up, supporting themselves. Every single one was wounded, yet their eyes were incredibly resolute.
“I only have light injuries. It’s not that serious. I can still fight.”
“Count me in. My brothers pulled me out of a pile of corpses with their lives so that I could keep saving people.”
“Let’s go. Sitting here is useless anyway; might as well do something worthwhile.”
Before Li Xin could respond, a voice drifted over from the shadows behind the medical point.
“It’s better if you let us go.”
Tang Xuan stepped out from behind a corner of the fortification, chewing a fresh piece of blueberry-flavored bubble gum and blowing a modest bubble.
There was still some soot on her face, and the abrasion on her shoulder was bandaged, but she walked with a slight limp.
Qiu Shubai followed half a step behind her. Her grayish-white long hair was surprisingly clean. The three claw marks on her waist had just been stitched, and the area around the sutures was coated in iodine, giving off a dull yellow sheen under the lights.
Li Qiang had also stood up. His face was still a bit pale, but his steps were much steadier than before.
The wounded Punishers opened their mouths to say something, but Qiu Shubai walked past them. Her pace wasn’t fast, but it was steady.
“The three of us have relatively lighter injuries,” she said, her voice as cold and calm as ever.
“If you go and your wounds reopen halfway, are the medics supposed to save the others or save you?”
Li Qiang added quietly from behind, “My Flowing Cloud Stardust can still provide two small-scale group buffs, and I can use my basic healing ability many times.”
Tang Xuan kicked a pebble aside and walked to the rear door of the ambulance. She reached out and slapped the metal side—thud, thud—one long, one short.
“Alright, alright, stop dawdling. Our dean just submitted the roster for the team matches. If we all end up crippled now, he’ll blow the roof off the hospital.”
She tossed the bubble gum up and caught it in her mouth, then turned to the leader. “So, the three of us won’t die, and we can’t die. Get the car moving. Every second you waste is another second the people at the industrial park are at risk of dying.”
Li Xin looked at their three young faces, a thousand words caught in his throat—arguments, admiration, and gratitude.
In the end, he said nothing. He simply pulled open the passenger door and sat in the driver’s seat.
Qiu Shubai pulled open the door and sat in the back. Tang Xuan gave her a little nudge, squeezed in beside her, and pulled the door shut.
Li Qiang was the last to board. He stepped in with one foot, then pulled it back to grab two extra energy bars from the ambulance’s rear storage cabinet and stuffed them into his pocket before settling in.
The leader glanced at them through the rearview mirror and started the engine. The ambulance’s tires kicked up a cloud of grayish-white dust as it sped toward the industrial park.
Rate on N.U.
