After burying Xiao Bin in a hurried fashion, the heavy sense of responsibility in Lin Mo’s heart did not lighten; instead, it became more defined.
He had to uncover the truth of the Death Realm.
Whether it was to provide solace to the deceased, to restore the true history of that era, or to find a way to escape the Death Realm and resolve it once and for all, he had no choice.
Given the current state of the battlefield, he likely didn’t have much time to waste.
Lin Mo stole one last glance at the inconspicuous mound of fresh soil, then turned away resolutely.
He decided to head to the front lines alone to scout.
The most important thing right now was to find the Frontline Command Center.
Ideally, he could establish contact with Division Commander Su Xiji.
This was the most likely path Lin Mo could think of to reach the core secrets of the Death Realm.
Leaning against a withered tree, he did a final tally of his dwindling equipment.
He had four submachine gun magazines remaining; with precision shooting, they could only support one or two small-scale skirmishes against Aberrants.
He also had three handgun magazines, five fragmentation grenades, and one three-edged military bayonet.
Along with three days’ worth of compressed rations for basic calories and a canteen of water that had to be strictly rationed, he had just enough.
If he planned his resources carefully, it would be sufficient to reach the intended frontline area.
The scorching midday sun baked the earth, and the distorted air made distant objects appear surreal.
In the silent wilderness, the only sounds were the fine grit blown by the wind against his ballistic vest and the sound of his own footsteps.
With one hand, he unfolded the worn cloth defense map, and with the other, he gripped an old-fashioned compass.
His gaze shifted rapidly between the map, the needle, and the ever-changing landscape as he constantly corrected his direction.
The military markings on this defense map from 200 years ago were almost identical to those used in the present.
Even though he had only received short-term military training, reading the map was not difficult.
Time slipped away quietly as the sun began its westward descent.
After several hours of forced marching, Lin Mo finally reached the original destination of his scouting mission based on the map and his mileage—Defense Line 03, Observation Post No. 3.
However, the sight before him caused his heart to sink.
As expected, Observation Post No. 3 had long since become a gruesome scene of death.
The outer walls of the temporary concrete tower were covered in crisscrossing claw marks.
Smeared gunpowder residue was everywhere.
Several massive cracks, in particular, nearly split the entire tower apart as if hacked open by some terrifying force, leaving the structure teetering on the verge of total collapse.
Lin Mo did not approach recklessly.
He stayed low, observing the perimeter of the post.
The barbed wire that should have been layered and impenetrable was now torn to shreds, its twisted metal strands scattered on the ground like a monster’s tentacles.
Both inside and outside the perimeter lay a vast number of tattered Aberrant carcasses.
Their blood had long since dried, blending with the scorched earth.
Even more heart-wrenching were the numerous bodies of soldiers wearing the 103rd Division uniforms scattered among them.
Some maintained their shooting stances, while others had fallen mid-charge, entangled with the Aberrants even in death.
Seeing this, Lin Mo felt his heart grow heavy.
The positions and postures of these fallen soldiers suggested they hadn’t simply been worn down while waiting for reinforcements; rather, at the final moment, they had launched a desperate, suicidal breakout.
They had tried to use their lives to tear open a path and send out information or hope.
However, judging by the bodies strewn across the post, this tragic breakout had undoubtedly failed.
In the air, besides the smell of smoke and blood, a lingering sense of despair and grievance from those final moments seemed to hang heavy.
He took a deep breath to suppress his surging emotions, his gaze sharpening once more.
‘I have to get inside and look.’
Lin Mo made his decision quickly.
No matter what, he had to enter Observation Post No. 3 to investigate.
Perhaps he could find more clues about the truth of the Death Realm here.
In his view, the identities assigned by the Death Realm were surely not truly random, but rather a “pseudo-randomness” dictated by some purpose or connection.
At this thought, Lin Mo slowly drew the bayonet from his waist and advanced cautiously.
He crouched to pass through a gap in the twisted barbed wire, his boots making a faint, sticky sound as they stepped on the dried, blackened blood.
His sharp eyes scanned the ruins of the battlefield, trying to read the information left behind by the frozen scenes of death.
Most of the soldiers’ bodies faced the perimeter of the post.
Their weapons were scattered, and spent shell casings blanketed the ground before them.
This confirmed his judgment: they had indeed tried to break out, but the Aberrants had swarmed from multiple directions, pinning them down and eventually overwhelming them.
He had no time to bury these warriors who had long since vanished into the river of history.
He could only offer a silent military salute before gripping his submachine gun and cautiously stepping inside the post.
The interior of the tower was even more horrific than the outside.
Marks of battle covered every inch of the walls, and the air was thick with the stench of blood mixed with gunpowder.
The power had been cut long ago, leaving only a few rays of light to pierce through cracks and firing ports, forming dim yellow pillars of light amidst the floating dust.
Lin Mo’s goal was clear—the post’s command room.
Usually, it would contain more detailed combat logs, communication records, and perhaps even clues regarding the main headquarters.
After searching for a while, he quickly located the command room.
The door was half-open, and the interior was a mess.
Communication equipment had been smashed to pieces, and maps were scattered across the floor, splattered with brown bloodstains.
Lin Mo knelt down, carefully rifling through the scattered documents.
Most were insignificant daily reports and records of skirmishes until he reached into a half-open drawer.
There, he found a first-generation communication terminal that was bulky, ugly, but surprisingly still functional.
Powering on the terminal, Lin Mo quickly found the command logs of the post commander.
“…Indices of contaminated aura are rising. This is definitely not a natural phenomenon…”
“…The scouting party reported sightings of Aberrants this afternoon. How can that be?…”
“…They really exist! There are so many of them. These aren’t normal Aberrants; they’re all special variants!”
“…Requesting instructions from headquarters… Repeat, requesting instructions… Communication is being heavily jammed…”
“…No orders. All communications have been lost…”
“…Reinforcements… likely aren’t coming…”
As he read this, Lin Mo’s heart grew heavy, though he had prepared himself mentally before entering the post.
However, when his gaze dropped to the final few lines of the log, his expression shifted instantly, and his pupils contracted.
“Someone… among the Aberrants… there’s actually someone there!!!”
“It’s them… the traitors! Those traitors jammed the communication signals!!”
“How is this possible? Aberrants… actually taking orders from humans? Impossible! Absolutely impossible!!”
“Their target is the rear…”
“We must break out. We have to break out… We must get the word out!”
Lin Mo set the terminal down, his brow furrowed in deep thought.
It seemed his previous deductions were correct.
There were traitors within the 103rd Division.
The loss of contact with the Frontline Command Center and the Aberrants infiltrating the defense lines were both inextricably linked to those traitors.
As he thought, he still had to find the headquarters. He had to find Su Xiji.
The next destination was the Frontline Command Center, which had been out of contact for a long time.
With this in mind, Lin Mo intended to search the post further for any clues or usable supplies.
He had just turned to leave when a faint, rhythmic ticking sound suddenly echoed.
Lin Mo froze. He followed the sound until he found a black instrument buried under dust and rubble in a corner.
The casing of the device was hard, and an indicator light was blinking with a faint green glow.
Lin Mo picked up the device and gave the casing a tentative tap… but there was no reaction.
‘What is this thing? What does it do?’
Doubts crowded Lin Mo’s mind, but the current clues were too scarce to support any effective theory.
Tucking the device into his pocket, Lin Mo slowly stood up.
He took one last look at the post—a place filled with tragic heroism and unsolved mysteries.
He took a deep breath and turned to leave.
‘There’s no point in dwelling on this now.’
He had to keep moving forward.
Once he found the Frontline Command Center, the truth… would likely surface.