WS - Chapter 107

Chapter 107

As Song Shiyue struggled to forget her fading strength, struggled to overcome the dizzy spells that came in waves, struggled to focus her mind and listen, she finally heard the sounds from the cave behind them again.

But the first thing that reached her ears was a cry of pain that could only be called a scream.

No... more than one person.

More than one person was hurt.

Song Shiyue's heart clenched and her brow furrowed.

From the sound, they were probably not far from the cave's entrance inside the rear cavern.

What a pity— if they had been just a little faster, once outside they would have had much more room to dodge during the quake.

Song Shiyue could not help sighing.

But right now, the two of them were also trapped by the white light and the earthquake, barely able to look after themselves.

Song Shiyue was a Strength-Type Ability User; her main mutation lay in her power, while her slightly sharper sight and hearing were minor mutations common to ability users.

And such sight and hearing required Song Shiyue to concentrate, to actively look, listen, or choose what to tune in.

Earlier inside the cave, as Song Shiyue's strength gradually drained away, the recurring dizziness and occasional ringing in her ears kept preventing her from focusing on hearing much else.

Except... that sound of water that seemed to boil and burrow straight into her brain.

Still, without deliberately trying to hear or make sense of it, Song Shiyue was roughly aware that the people who had stayed behind were indeed following them toward the entrance.

Having caught only that faint sign, Song Shiyue, busy rushing toward the exit with Yu Nianbing at the time, did not force herself to keep paying attention to the situation behind them.

After all, she had said all she could. At that moment, to Song Shiyue, everything was just her own feeling, her own guess.

In the Apocalypse, if there was no solid evidence, insisting that the whole team change direction on nothing but a personal hunch was extremely unwise. That meant shouldering the entire team's life or death in an instant— an impulsive burden borne from a fleeting feeling.

Given her many experiences in the Apocalypse, Song Shiyue could only tell them about her uneasy premonition and her suggestion. Forcing them to comply was out of the question.

Luckily, they had turned back after all.

When Song Shiyue and Yu Nianbing burst out of the cave, the woodland outside was bathed in golden sunlight, peaceful and serene. And Song Shiyue's strength did not slow its draining just because she had left that cave that made her feel so awful.

For a dazed instant, Song Shiyue even began to think her earlier feeling had been wrong.

But soon after, Yu Nianbing's face turned pale; she shouted "Yaoxing Storm" toward the cave, grabbed her, and started running. That made Song Shiyue realize it might not be that her earlier feeling was wrong, but that there was something now she had not sensed.

As they ran, Song Shiyue dug through the Original Host's memories and found the content about "Yaoxing Storm."

Apart from the Pinggu Prime tragedy sixty-nine years ago, the later Yaoxing Storms had been well predicted; with timely evacuations and decisive abandonment, at least no one got hurt. In the Original Host's view, a Yaoxing Storm was something very distant and not really dangerous.

Since the Original Host deemed it unimportant, the memory was shallow and buried deep; Song Shiyue even had to spare some mental effort to rummage through memory to find more details.

Then, just as she figured out what a Yaoxing Storm was, before she could even complain about her "good luck"— going from the Apocalypse to Wilderness Planet, a combo strike of disaster worlds— the Yao star burst.

Earthquakes, fissures, falling trees...

For Song Shiyue, none of that was the worst.

The worst was when the world blazed white before her eyes and she realized that her strength was draining... even faster...

What did an Ability mean to an Ability User?

After seven years, it had long since surpassed the simple meaning of a survival guarantee.

It was a psychological pillar, providing the greatest sense of security for standing firm in that chaotic world.

Maybe this superhuman strength was unnecessary in this safe new interstellar world.

But... it had long become part of her body, like bone and blood, skin and flesh. How could she willingly give it up just because it was no longer needed?

Yet now, when this seemingly safe world turned unsafe, Song Shiyue could do nothing about this loss. There were not that many coincidences in the world; Song Shiyue could basically link her abnormality to the Yaoxing Storm. But sadly, even if she guessed the cause, she could not stop her strength from continuing to fade...

What a wretched world.

For a moment, Song Shiyue could not help feeling despondent. But when she slightly loosened her grip and her prone body lowered a bit, the warmth and softness pressed against her chest acted like a powerful cardiac stimulant.

Yes, this was truly a wretched world.

And yet...

Song Shiyue lowered her head, trying amidst the still too-bright light to make out the person beneath her.

Of course she could not see clearly.

But that did not stop Song Shiyue from pulling herself together.

Even if she lost her strength, even if she lost bone and blood, skin and flesh, surviving was what mattered most.

This person.

This person who had saved her before.

This person with whom she was most entangled in this new world.

She had to keep her alive until the rescue came...

Song Shiyue's hand, braced against the ground, slowly clenched into a fist.

It was strength so small that she had not felt it for a very, very long time. A strength that could no longer casually crumble rocks, probably could not snap a snake's spine with one pebble, could not slice through cattle or wood like a hot knife through butter...

Right now, it was only a little stronger than that of Zhao Da and Zhao Er, those muscular bodyguards.

Song Shiyue could not help thinking about what would happen if her strength kept fading.

If she was lucky, perhaps when her strength returned to normal— about the same as Yu Nianbing or Ning Chuyang— this mutation would stop.

If her luck was bad...

Perhaps, in this Yaoxing Storm, what was meant to disappear was not just her strength but... her soul, this soul from another world. Who could say.

Was she reconciled? Of course not. She had crawled up from a hell of blood and flesh, had only just enjoyed half a month of peaceful days, had not even had time to eat her way through all the delicacies on Beichen Planet before she might either disappear or go back— who could be reconciled?

She yearned for this peaceful world, free of zombies and mutated plants and animals, yearned for this world filled with all kinds of gourmet food, with instant StarNet delivery.

She yearned...

Song Shiyue lowered her head.

The person pinned beneath her lay obediently, not moving recklessly, but through the fabric and bodies pressed together, Song Shiyue could clearly feel Yu Nianbing trembling slightly.

For her, perhaps... I can only be a fleeting passerby of some ten-odd days.

Song Shiyue tried to think calmly, and then felt as if her heart had been pierced through.

So many thoughts churned in her heart a hundred, a thousand times, yet only a few seconds passed. Song Shiyue had no more time to dissolve the bitter ache spreading through her heart and the icy void left by a cold wind sweeping through. If her strength vanished, then her soul would follow; the complete end would not be far off.

When Wilderness Planet had reforested years ago, they introduced many plants and animals, including a wide variety of wild beasts.

Not to mention whether the wild beast population had increased or decreased over the last decade or so, even just one would be too much for Yu Nianbing with her physique and strength. Forget wild beasts— even a venomous snake...

Over the past two days of trekking, Song Shiyue did not know how the Production Team managed it, but the area around them must have been cleared.

But after this earthquake, would that clearance still hold?

Would the Old Castle— which seemed the safest— still exist after the quake?

And even if it did, would Yu Nianbing be able to make that journey alone?

Although she did not want to deny it, Song Shiyue thought it was impossible.

In that case...

Song Shiyue tried once more to calm her mind and focus on listening.

The shaking on the ground grew stronger, until the earth itself was pressed into undulations and slopes. The tree beside them that had fallen earlier and brushed Song Shiyue's arm was now sliding down the rising slope, slowly rolling toward the fissure they had dodged earlier.

Then... it dropped in.

Even though Song Shiyue could not see the fissure just then, she could tell from the constant cracking of the earth and the sound of the tree plummeting that it was definitely no small crack.

And all they could do now was to root themselves firmly on this still relatively open ground, making sure they did not get crushed by falling objects— or worse, roll into a fissure.

While trying hard to listen to the sounds from the cave behind, Song Shiyue also took advantage of what little strength she still had to dig her hands into the soil, stabilizing their bodies.

Inside the cave, it was chaotic.

Cries of pain, voices, curses, falling rocks, rushing water... From the sound, they were all still alive, though it was impossible to tell how badly they were hurt.

Song Shiyue could now roughly figure out that the water-rolling sound she had heard earlier was very likely the sound of underground river water surging violently ahead of the earthquake.

In hindsight, she had been too careless. The bats fleeing in droves, the fish that swam upstream even at the cost of injury... and she never thought of an earthquake.

In her seven years in the Apocalypse, Song Shiyue had never experienced a geological disaster like an earthquake. All her disasters came from zombies, mutated plants and animals, extreme cold and heat, hunger, and even... humans.

When a person's crisis instinct had become too clearly pointed and guarded against certain threats for years, she lost her acute sensitivity toward things like earthquakes, which in peacetime she occasionally saw on the news.

Song Shiyue deeply regretted it.

If only she had thought of it earlier, they would never have entered that cave.

But thinking about it now was useless. Now she could only wait for this earthquake to end on its own.

Waiting was an excruciating thing.

For Song Shiyue and Yu Nianbing outside the cave, it was so. For the people inside the cave, it was even more so.

Everyone regretted it.

Most regretted not immediately following when Song Shiyue proposed turning back, but instead kept talking to her, and even after the two women left they still deliberated for a while before deciding to turn back— and walked so slowly at that.

Among them, the one who repented the most was Wang Daming, huddled in a corner by the passage wall, muttering to himself in collapse.

As early as the night before, when Wang Daming had tethered the Dog outside his tent, something had been off.

It paced endlessly and from time to time panted heavily at the tent or made muffled whines.

Wang Daming found it annoying; back then he thought the dog was throwing a tantrum because he had tied it up and kept it from going over to Song Shiyue.

In the past, he might have let the Dog loose and let it do as it pleased.

But that particular night, he had just gotten a few remarks from Director Zhang.

Wang Daming certainly could not talk back to Director Zhang; on the contrary, he had to accept the criticism with a good attitude, and even throw in some nice words to placate him.

Wang Daming was not a masochist; he had a bellyful of pent-up frustration, and the Dog acted like it despised him and only had eyes for Song Shiyue. Wang Daming did not release the Dog, just tethered it to a tree a little way off, as long as the Dog's footsteps and whines did not disturb him.

Then, in the dead of night, that huge swarm of bats passed through; although any that landed in camp should have been cleaned up by Song Shiyue, Wang Daming still thought about the possibility of the Dog eating some stray bat that had been left behind... imagining it made him sick. So he put a muzzle on the Dog.

With the muzzle on, even the whining and huffing sounds he could previously hear from his tent disappeared.

Wang Daming recognized the muzzle's magic. In the morning, after the Dog finished eating and for some reason again started huffing and puffing at the Production Team members, he put it back on.

Later, the Dog grew restless along the way, losing its usual docile and quick-witted manner. Even the leash did not help much; it often planted its face against people's legs and tried to bare its teeth through the muzzle.

Director Zhang worried that something from last night's bats had made the Dog agitated, so he refused to let Wang Daming remove the muzzle all day, afraid that if the Dog suddenly bit one of the guests it would be a huge problem.

Wang Daming had a hard time leading the disobedient Dog the whole way. For one thing, constantly wrestling with the Dog as it tried to bolt in all directions had made his hands sore from the leash.

At the time, Wang Daming could not fathom how the Dog kept trying to run wild despite its neck being yanked again and again.

But now, Wang Daming understood.

Inside the cave, the ground shook like a shaker table; rocks from somewhere above kept raining down with sharp cracks.

Wang Daming clutched his head with both hands, shrinking into a corner.

His sleeves bore the marks of numerous small stones, and without looking he knew his arms were covered in bruises.

But the most painful part of his body was his right hand.

The hand that had been holding the leash when they were still some distance from the cave entrance.

At that time, Wang Daming still had no idea why the Dog, once inside the cave, kept trying to bolt in all directions. To keep up with the group, he had to shorten the leash, reeling it in so short that the Dog could only stand one step in front of him.

This forceful control had worked somewhat.

But when they confirmed they were heading back and were still some distance from the entrance, the Dog, which had been quiet for a while, suddenly darted forward as if gone mad. It seemed utterly indifferent to the fact that the chain around its neck was still in Wang Daming's hand.

Wang Daming, having relaxed his grip a bit because the Dog had finally settled down, was just catching his breath.

He never saw the Dog run out a length without warning.

Most hatefully, the Dog bolted so fiercely that the metal chain slid rapidly through Wang Daming's hand, scraping it so badly it burned with pain.

He tried to grab the chain, but the Dog did not slow down one bit; his hand was scraped hard again.

The palm of his right hand ached as if someone had slashed it and then rubbed in chili and salt. In pain, anger, and fury, Wang Daming simply let go of the chain.

The Dog, of course, dashed far ahead and soon vanished into the darkness where even the flashlight beam of Zhao Da, at the front of the group, could not reach.

A few people who saw this were just about to ask, while Wang Daming was cursing the wretched dog inside, wishing it would be devoured by bats, when faint sounds came from up ahead.

Zhao Da and Director Zhang, walking in the lead, paused.

Those behind were still trying to piece together what "star" and "what" the familiar female voice had shouted when they heard Director Zhang roar "Yaoxing Storm" up front, then he bolted forward, passing Zhao Da.

These people were not Song Shiyue, who had borrowed a shell and needed to dig through the Original Host's memory for term definitions. That one shout from Director Zhang turned everyone's faces pale, and instantly they all started running.

In an instant, the formation fell apart. The fast runners, the slow runners, people overtaking on the right, people squeezing left to avoid being jostled— flashlight beams swung wildly with their hasty, chaotic steps, inadvertently creating a horror-film effect in the dark cave.

No one had time to wonder if Director Zhang had misheard or if that voice outside was a prank.

The earthquake that could be triggered by the Yao star bursting at any moment, and the stone ceiling of the cave, hung over their heads like an executioner's blade, allowing no further thought or delay.

In the chaos, the line compressed, deformed, then stretched out.

At a moment when they barely had time to look after themselves, most could not tell who was in front or behind, or even who had bumped into them or been bumped into.

The walkable passage was narrow to begin with; at a run, even two abreast was difficult.

Soon, under the rule of survival of the fittest, the group reformed into a single line.

But sadly, the earlier delay had already been too long.

Even the person who ran fastest, who had glimpsed a bit of light up ahead, did not make it out in time.

Boom after boom, crash after crash.

The violent trembling of the ground, and the water that somehow rushed up from behind, caught everyone off guard.

Ahead was hope.

But in no time, that hope was smashed by falling rocks.

Some screamed; some cried out in alarm; some moved to protect others; some were shoved and rolled on the ground.

Heavy blows, scrapes, near-death escapes...

Flashlights slipped from unsteady hands, fell to the ground, and rolled away.

Amid the shrieks in the darkness, what actually happened was impossible for even those living through it to clearly discern.

Wang Daming, who had immediately covered his head and cowered in a corner, was very lucky— at least the smell of blood that came from behind was not his own.

But such luck depended on whom you compared with.

Not only Song Shiyue and Yu Nianbing, who should have long since left the cave, but even the Dog that had bolted earlier had probably reached a place with no stone ceiling overhead.

Wait, only wait.

Whether lightly wounded or already in so much pain they could not make a sound, in this moment of earth-shaking and mountain-tumbling, all they could do was wait.

Every tremor, every falling rock, every surge of water rushing from behind, every second, felt as long as a lifetime.

Yes, it felt as long as a lifetime.

Not just for those on Wilderness Planet struggling between life and death, but also for the viewers on StarNet.

On the Livestream Page of The Wilderness Journey, across so many Livestream Windows, the final image left to the audience was that point of dazzling brightness in the sky, erupting into a myriad rays of light.

And then, all the Livestream Rooms went dark in unison.

That magnificent scene of ten thousand beams of light looked like an ending.

StarNet was so intelligent that, even at the very end, it still judged the most image-worthy scene around.

Magnificent and vast, more resplendent than any preserved material from previous Yaoxing Storms.

Perhaps tragedy moves the heart.

The dark Livestream Rooms remained dark for a long, long time.

No one knew how long before the first Danmaku slowly scrolled across the pitch-black backdrop: "?"

And then, another long silence.

Waiting— waiting without knowing what they were waiting for— mingled with hearts caught in throats, tears washing away makeup, clenched fists and low curses of rage.

On Mingtan Prime, in the enormous studio of The Wilderness Journey's Production Team, the cacophony of fierce arguments that minutes ago had nearly blown the roof off the floor, and the countless voice and video calls buzzing back and forth, all fell silent at this moment.

On the three white walls of the cavernous office were the same thing, row after row, tightly packed... dark projection screens.

Compared to the pure anger and grief of the viewers, a deathly air of doom also pervaded this office.

What a cataclysmic change.

Just a few minutes earlier, the show's viewership had climbed another notch because of Song Shiyue's "little antics," with Danmaku of differing opinions rushing past in torrents, generating even more buzz and heat than the previous candy-feeding scenes.

And then, when Yu Nianbing spotted that bright point in the sky.

Everything changed.

The Production Team staff sat, stood, or collapsed to the floor, facing three walls of black, unable to utter another word.

It was over. No matter how they remedied it, they were finished.

The Yaoxing Storm on Wilderness Planet had dealt a massive blow, but it did not just hit the dozen-plus people on Wilderness Planet.

Countless viewers who had been watching the livestream, and countless others scrolling StarNet, could not help but feel their emotions tangled up in it.

Beyond Wilderness Planet, if one were to measure the intensity of spiritual shock and emotional collapse, probably no one could surpass Yao Yuxi.

Her trembling right hand slowly raised; her index finger carefully moved two video windows— one bright, one dark— to the side.

Yao Yuxi bit her lower lip and initiated a video call.

Calling "Ye Liu."

On the staircase leading underground in a villa on Mingtan Prime, Ye Liu, who had successfully spiked the laxative for the other maid in charge of the basement and had just gotten a chance to go down and clean, felt a faint vibration on her Wristband.

Ye Liu glanced at the band, her expression shifting.

Before she came, they had agreed: unless absolutely necessary, only Ye Liu could contact Yao Yuxi; Yao Yuxi was not to seek out Ye Liu on her own.

So what had happened on Yao Yuxi's end?

By now Ye Liu had reached the final two steps; the raucous laughter from the home theater ahead was clearly audible. Ye Liu pressed her lips together, decisively abandoned moving forward, and turned to go back upstairs.

Yao Yuxi's video call soon ended automatically after not being picked up.

But before Ye Liu could quicken her pace into the bathroom to call back, Yao Yuxi's video request came through again.

What had happened to make her this frantic?

This was completely unlike Yao Yuxi's usual style.

Ye Liu's expression grew even graver; she darted into the bathroom.

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