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墨書 Inktalez
The faint light of dawn began to appear on the horizon, and soon the breaking morning light would tear through the night, returning to the earth. However, some people in a hurry had no time to wait for the sunlight to illuminate the city. Moreover, in the vast sea of grass swaying with the wind, more than one pair of eyes were secretly watching them.
The other side remained calm, perhaps not fully understanding what the people on the road intended to do, so they chose to hold their ground. The Foreigners, responsible for vigilance, expertly sealed off all potential blind spots for an attack. Considering that the opponents might possess long-range weapons, the Foreigners deliberately chose positions with cover for ambush. Although they could not yet see anyone from the other side revealing themselves, their keen combat awareness compensated for the lack of visibility. As long as the opponents made any move, the Foreigners were confident they could pinpoint their location in the shortest time possible.
Ming Junwei had a rather cunning idea, but given the current situation, it was indeed the most convenient and labor-saving method. The sea of grass was inherently the opponent's territory, filled with countless traps and mechanisms hidden within. With only their small group, it was unwise to venture in recklessly or search inch by inch. In the absence of conditions, they had to create them; with the night wind howling, and the grass being excellent fuel, Ming Junwei felt that if he didn't start a fire, it would be a waste of such favorable circumstances.
The team gathering flammable materials moved swiftly. There were many vehicles on the street; while their metal shells were of little use, there were plenty of miscellaneous items inside. Past Survivors generally focused on finding food and warm clothing, showing little interest in other items inside vehicles. This provided convenience for Ming Junwei's plan, allowing everyone to quickly gather a large pile of cushions and sponges.
"Once we set this on fire, they should react," Ming Junwei pointed at the waves of grass beyond the barrier and said to Old Russians: "It will take time for the flames to spread; we don't have other accelerants, so initially it shouldn't have much impact on them. Can your people ensure they won't be affected?"
"We can adapt to harsher combat environments," Old Russians replied confidently, scanning with infrared binoculars. "The enemy is well concealed, but as long as they dare to show themselves, they won't escape our bullets."
"That's best," Ming Junwei felt somewhat reassured and nodded. "In any case, do not pursue too deeply; keep control of the battlefield on the road."
"What if they retreat?" Old Russians frowned; they weren't fond of defense. The baptism of gunfire instilled in them an indomitable spirit; regardless of who the enemy was, there was no fear.
"Let them retreat," Ming Junwei rubbed his slightly sore Cyclops, smiling. "If the fire can reach into the mountains and forests, it should save us a lot of trouble."
Old Russians furrowed their brows in thought before nodding in agreement with Ming Junwei's plan. They turned back to explain individually to their poised Foreigners, avoiding unnecessary chaos from rash charges later.
A graduate student tested the wind direction and said happily, "Northwest wind—just right."
"Burn," Ming Junwei said with a fiery gaze, his words cold as ice. His chest boiled with long-lost passion; no matter how time settled things down, some people's fighting spirit would never fade away. Ming Junwei was calm enough and stable enough, but at certain moments, he could also be wildly reckless. This Cyclops had thought about making a big commotion before; years ago he considered blowing up water towers or air raid shelters or underground bases. Whenever faced with difficult problems, his blood's fervor would spark thoughts of mutual destruction, and explosions were undoubtedly one of the most dramatic means.
With no conditions for demolition at hand, he settled for setting fire to everything instead.
Arson was one of humanity's earliest mastered skills; flames brought disaster but also cooked food and warmth. Almost everyone harbored a hidden desire for arson within them. This was no exaggeration; the sounds of lighters flickering on the road proved this point—whether among Foreign Operatives, Roundabout smokers or even girls like Luo Yu and Luci, when their flammable materials ignited into blazing flames, everyone’s faces revealed an unmistakable hint of fervor.
A flaming Blanket was tossed into the grass.
Smoke-filled sponges were thrown into the grass.
Exploding plastic products were hurled into the grass.
On that desolate highway at night, it seemed as if a group of drunken urban vandals had arrived—reckless and indifferent to consequences or losses—intent on setting everything before them ablaze. The dry grassland quickly caught fire; fierce flames threatened to destroy everything in their path. With assistance from the night wind, flames leaped higher and higher, rapidly spreading from scattered sparks into a three-foot-high Firewall, continuing to consume everything in sight. The blaze along the highway blazed brightly; temperatures soared sharply as air warped from heat distortion while thick smoke billowed upward in swirling columns carried by the wind.
The crowd standing by the isolation zone stepped back a few paces, their cheeks faintly warmed by the fierce flames. A few young men stood too close, even catching the scent of singed hair and eyebrows.
"Is there any movement?" Ming Junwei asked quietly, his eyes flickering with clusters of flames.
"It's moving," Old Russians replied, his eyes glued to the telescope. Through the red glow illuminating the sky, a sinister smile crept onto his lips. "It's unable to hold back; prepare."
At Old Russians' command, dozens of gun barrels pointed toward a single spot, their dark muzzles reflecting an orange glow, a chilling heat mingling with the air.
"Steady, steady," Old Russians controlled the rhythm of his voice, raising his hand to signal Ming Junwei and the others to step back. He held up three fingers, his mustache twitching as he said loudly, "Three."
Ming Junwei and the others retreated behind several vehicles, bullets chambered, their gazes fixed on the increasingly fierce flames in the grass.
"Two."
The militia took their shooting positions, fingers resting on triggers as their breathing grew more rapid.
Old Russians' finger pointed skyward remained unwithdrawn. His lips moved silently as if something had changed in his line of sight. He leaned forward slightly, trying to see more clearly. The militia and foreign operatives were tense, their fingers trembling on the triggers as they struggled to control their breathing, waiting for the final command to fire.
Song Yao held her breath, listening intently. Was it just her imagination? Amidst the crackling sounds of burning grass, she thought she heard faint buzzing noises. Furrowing her brow, she turned to Liu Yan and Luci; both wore expressions of concern. They exchanged glances and suddenly realized something was wrong, their faces paling.
Just as the three sensed impending danger, Old Russians swung his raised hand down forcefully and nearly shouted two words: "Take cover!"
Everyone's hearts raced into their throats; however, the final command was not to fire. The foreign operatives immediately withdrew their guns upon hearing it, but the militia fell out of sync. In that instant of his hand's motion, they all pulled the triggers simultaneously. Chaos erupted at the highway sniper position; those retreating foreigners thought they were hearing things. Looking back, they saw blinding flashes erupting from the militia's position as flames shot forth and shell casings rained down around them.
Almost simultaneously, everyone suddenly noticed a gust of wind swirling around them. From within the blazing firewall emerged javelins flying out like sparks, followed closely by a swarm of crossbow bolts that swooped down like locusts. As they burst through the firewall, their momentum slightly diminished but still fell in a chaotic yet dense manner. Cries of anguish filled the air as they struck down indiscriminately. The concealed crowd remained unharmed but heard vehicles clanging in front of them as fierce javelins pierced through car windows, leaving fist-sized dents in metal bodies. A rain of arrows scattered across the ground; many still burned with embers that struggled against the wind before finally extinguishing.
"Fire!"
At that moment, Old Russians bellowed angrily while keeping an eye on enemy movements. He and his fellow foreigners immediately launched a counterattack; gunfire poured forth again in response to where the militia had fired from, unleashing fury that tore into enemies hidden behind flames, causing chaos among them.
The militia members who hadn’t managed to take cover suffered varying degrees of injury. Although the hail of arrows lacked precision, sheer numbers proved deadly; many unfortunate souls were struck by numerous arrows raining down from above. Rough arrowheads plunged into unprotected flesh by sheer accident took down several individuals. Liu Yan and Old Lin rushed out amidst sporadic arrows shooting from the firewall to rescue the wounded while enemy forces had already entered firing range—before they arrived, javelins led the charge into a bloody confrontation with bullets.
"Madmen," Old Russians muttered in disbelief. At this point, he no longer needed binoculars; he could see the strange bald figures rushing toward them without fear of gunfire—emaciated figures charging forward relentlessly.
The confrontation with the bullets was without suspense. The first wave of fire from the Foreigners nearly wiped out the bald advance troops, with at least a dozen people torn into pieces by the torrent of bullets in an instant. Even so, this did not intimidate the subsequent enemies; they seemed utterly unafraid of death. Many charged forward as if to break through the Firewall, their bodies ablaze, screaming wildly as they attempted to rush onto the road.
After a brief moment of chaos, the ambush position on the highway quickly regained its rhythm. The Foreign Operatives took charge of the frontline firepower, using their professional shooting skills to eliminate a large number of incoming enemies. Liu Yan and Old Lin led the others to pick up the pieces, remaining vigilant against the grasslands behind them. The earlier dense rain of arrows did not strike again, allowing everyone to relax somewhat. The inexplicable tension gradually dissipated; the Bald Monsters failed to organize a proper counterattack. Aside from the initial arrow storm causing some casualties, their subsequent charges were merely sacrifices made to fill the gaps, lacking any ferocity as Lin Daozhang had previously described.
"I can hardly believe that Wu could be captured by such enemies," Old Russians said, his face filled with a strange expression. Carrot pointed with his thick fingers at a bald man climbing over the railing while making odd noises, exclaiming in surprise, "Is this how they attack you?"
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