Chapter Forty-Six: Breaking Through the Crimson Mist

“Ah!”
With a shrill, desperate scream, Shen Lie felt as if the sound of shattering glass echoed through the void. Then, before his eyes, the scene fractured like a spider’s web. When he regained his senses, the world before him had completely changed.

There was no sign of the arched bridge, no boiling cauldron, and the old woman had vanished without a trace. Beneath his feet remained the pitch-black, crow-covered floating bridge, surrounded by the same frantic crowd fleeing for their lives—but ahead, a beam of light beckoned!

The long-lost radiance filled Shen Lie with wild joy. Without another thought, he surged toward the light.

・・・

Seven kilometers outside the eastern town of Dongfeng, a long, snaking column of survivors had come to a halt. The line stretched so far that its end was lost to sight—there must have been at least twenty thousand people.

This was a group of survivors relocated from the northern province. At first, there had been a hundred thousand, and with stragglers joining along the way, their ranks had once swelled to three hundred thousand. They were protected by a fully equipped military division. Without this military presence, it would have been impossible to keep so many survivors together. Nearly all regions north of Liaoning had already fallen to monsters, and to attempt the journey to Yang City’s survivor haven alone was unthinkable.

Yet even so, their numbers had dwindled. Along the way, they had not only faced constant threat from spider monsters and other mutated beasts, but they had also encountered inexplicable, sinister events that slowed their progress. Nearly three months had passed before they finally arrived in northern Qingshan Province, still far from Yang City.

They had suffered countless calamities. Supplies of food and water were perilously low. Many had branched off for various reasons, their numbers slashed by more than ninety percent. Military losses were severe: from an original eight thousand soldiers, fewer than two thousand remained, their weapons nearly depleted, their fighting spirit all but exhausted.

A month ago, the military ceased to coordinate food distribution. Apart from providing some protection against monsters, they left the survivors to their own devices—life or death left to fate.

“Commander, the situation ahead seems too strange. I think we should take a detour,” said a young officer, his face haggard as he lowered his binoculars and looked at his superior.

“Heh, have we not already seen enough strange things on this march?” the commander replied grimly. “To detour now would mean far more than a simple change of direction. There’s a monster horde to the left toward Hong City, and to the right, we’d have to cross the tributaries of the Song River. You know as well as I do what the Song River is like these days—there’s no way we could get through.”

His expression was somber. They had just barely survived another monster attack and had hoped for a brief respite, only to find their path blocked by a crimson mist, as vast as a blood-red sea, leaving them caught between danger and despair.

A gunshot cracked from the rear of the column. The commander merely raised an eyebrow, neither speaking nor inquiring. With nerves stretched to the breaking point and resources scarce, the survivors had become desperate. Sometimes, people did unforgivable things. He had ordered that any troublemakers be executed on the spot, to serve as a warning to all.

“Commander, I still don't think passing through here is wise. Perhaps we could send the Awakened ahead to scout?” the young officer persisted.

“No. The Awakened are vital to our safe arrival in Yang City. Every loss makes us that much more vulnerable—and besides, we have too few of them. We still need their presence to keep people like Gu Chengfang in check.” The commander refused without hesitation.

“But if we send ordinary soldiers, who knows how many more will die? I wonder how many of us will be left when we finally reach our destination,” the young officer’s voice trembled with emotion.

“In these times, no one can predict what tomorrow will bring. To forge ahead may mean death, but staying put offers no assurance of survival either. I never used to believe in luck, but now, I can only hope fortune favors us.”

“Gu Chengfang and his lot are truly outrageous. They seize the best supplies, yet always stand behind us. How could such people become Awakened? Heaven must be blind!” The officer’s face was flushed with indignation, tinged with envy.

“Heh, Little Hu, remember this: the times have changed. The future belongs to the Awakened. For now, we can still use rules to restrain them, but once we reach Yang City, everything will change. We may well find ourselves under their command.”

“That’s impossible, Commander! Don’t say such things. We can defeat the monsters and restore order!” Little Hu declared with determination shining in his eyes.

The commander looked at the young man’s earnest face and shook his head, sighing as he gazed into the distance.

“Report! Eagle Eye has sent word: there are signs of human activity to the left of the red mist ahead, and someone is emerging from the mist!”

“What? Let’s go and have a look!” The commander was momentarily stunned, then strode swiftly toward the camp.

・・・

After passing through the light, Shen Lie found himself beyond the red mist. Around him were several familiar faces: Professor Liu, Du Lili, Yang Weiguo and his men. But there was no sign of Zhang Jing or little Tao Tao, nor any other familiar companions.

“You made it out?” Du Lili greeted him first when she saw him, and Professor Liu nodded in acknowledgment, their attention shifting to the spot where Shen Lie had just emerged.

Shen Lie took in his surroundings. He was now well outside the red mist. The sky above was clear, the air crisp, and life seemed to flourish as far as the eye could see.

“It seems we’ve made it out,” Shen Lie breathed, joy lighting up his face.

“Yes, we’re out. But far too few of us made it,” Professor Liu said, his gaze lingering on the passage of light before he sighed.

Shen Lie glanced at the glowing passage and saw the light was fading fast. Who knew what strange perils still lurked within? Once the passage closed, any hope for those still inside would be all but lost.

From a team of over a thousand, barely thirty or forty remained. The loss was staggering, almost unbearable. Shen Lie scanned the survivors again, confirming Zhang Jing and Tao Tao had not emerged, his eyes reflecting his sorrow.

“Let’s go. No one else will make it out now,” Professor Liu said quietly as the last glimmer of light flickered, resigned to the cruel reality.

Suddenly, two figures—one tall, one small—burst from the nearly sealed passage, startling everyone.

“Zhang Jing? Tao Tao!” Shen Lie cried out in delight as he recognized them. His joy deepened when he noticed Tao Tao’s eyes had turned a striking violet.

“Is there anyone else?” Professor Liu and Yang Weiguo asked anxiously, but Zhang Jing could only shake her head.

“The crows have scattered!” Zhang Jing said, her voice still trembling with fear.