“During this time of crisis… static…”
“Maintaining city order and defending the peace of the border… Since their formation, the Swordbearers have provided a satisfactory result to the entire populace.”
“However, the covetous hearts of the foreign races beyond our borders have not died. They have massed a million-strong army at the southeast border, brazenly provoking a war.”
“Here, the Huafu Swordbearers solemnly declare to all military officers, municipal colleagues, and all citizens: All those with the ambition to serve their country may sign up to join. It is the inescapable mission of our generation to keep the flames of war outside the nation’s gates!”
“Static… The registration channels for all branches have opened… static… We hope people with high ideals will actively sign up…”
His consciousness felt as though it was struggling to surface from a bottomless ocean abyss.
The first thing to return was his hearing.
An old radio emitted the crackling noise of an electric current, intermittently broadcasting an emergency announcement.
Then came the sense of touch.
The rough texture of the hard wooden board bed beneath him pressed through the thin sheets, causing a dull ache.
Finally, Lin Mo slowly opened his eyes.
The dim light barely outlined the contours of the room.
It was an extremely simple bungalow.
The four walls were bare concrete without any trace of paint, rough enough that the patterns of the molds used during the pouring were clearly visible.
A dim yellow incandescent lightbulb hung from the center of the ceiling.
The tungsten filament gave off a lingering glow, struggling to disperse the darkness of the room, yet leaving deeper shadows in the corners.
A draft of air, mixed with the smell of mold, dust, and a faint hint of blood, rushed into his nostrils.
Lin Mo tried to move his body, but a sudden wave of intense soreness and weakness hit him, as if this body had just undergone an ordeal of torture.
He clenched his teeth, propped himself up with his elbows, and slowly sat up from the bed.
The wooden bed beneath him immediately let out a series of overwhelmed squeaks, which sounded particularly piercing in the silent room.
As his feet touched the cold concrete floor, he stabilized his slightly floating body and scanned the unfamiliar environment with a quick, vigilant gaze.
The room was pitifully small, and its furnishings were clear at a glance — a hard wooden bed he had just left, a wooden table covered in scratches and stains, a shaky wooden chair, and a dilapidated wardrobe with its door half-open and its interior empty.
Other than those, there was nothing else.
After a moment, Lin Mo’s gaze finally locked onto the wooden table.
Besides the old radio that was making noise, there was also a folded newspaper.
Lin Mo rubbed his aching temples and walked quickly to the table to pick it up.
The paper was coarse and yellowed, carrying a scent unique to its era.
His eyes immediately caught the date at the top.
“New Era 734…” Lin Mo’s pupils suddenly constricted as if pricked by a needle. ‘284 years ago?!’
As expected!
Before the search and rescue operation began, as the person in charge of the Binhai branch, he had practically turned the headquarters’ electronic database upside down looking for every encrypted file related to Binhai.
Two hundred eighty-four years ago was exactly the point in time when the East Asian population of aberrations launched a massive invasion war against Huafu, code-named “Red Tide.”
Millions of aberrations had gathered outside the southeast border line, attempting to tear through the defensive line that humanity had held for hundreds of years in one fell swoop.
At that time, South Bay Province, acting as the flank of the southeast defense line, also endured immense pressure.
The progression of the front lines and the tug-of-war areas recorded in history overlapped significantly with the BH2 Clearing Highway in his memory.
Furthermore, the headquarters’ records explicitly stated that a tragic blocking action had broken out in this very area.
The strange thing, however, was that the archives concerning this battle were vague and poorly detailed, as if they had been deliberately erased by an invisible hand, leaving only a hollow name and a confusing set of casualty figures.
His gaze moved down, falling on the front-page headline and a black-and-white photo that appeared blurry due to outdated printing technology.
The photo showed a determined middle-aged man wearing an old-style general’s uniform.
Looking further down, the headline read: [Major General Su Xiji, Commander of the 103rd Division stationed in Binhai, issues a declaration: Please rest assured, citizens of Binhai. All officers and soldiers of the 103rd Division are prepared to fight to the death. We will keep the aberrations outside the battle lines and swear to live or die with Binhai!]
‘Su Xiji…’
‘He must be the commander of this blocking action.’
Lin Mo stared at the name, his mind quickly retrieving fragments of information from the headquarters’ database.
Regarding him, everything in the database besides his name, rank, and unit was basically a blank.
There was no resume, no evaluation of his merits or faults, and not even a clear photograph.
For a general who held a heavy command responsibility in a major battle to have only a few scribbled lines in the records?
This was highly unusual.
After a long while, Lin Mo slowly put down the newspaper, his brow furrowing tightly into a deep scowl.
His fingertips turned slightly white from the force of his grip.
There was too little known information at present.
Other than the high probability that the formation of the Dead Zone was related to this General Su Xiji and the mysterious battle he commanded, all other key information was unknown.
The mist of history was thick enough to be suffocating, and the truth would certainly not deliver itself to his door.
Thinking of this, Lin Mo tilted his head slightly to look at the door — it seemed he had to walk out of here and continue deep into the Dead Zone to explore.
Taking a deep breath of the cold air filled with mold and rust, Lin Mo’s gaze became sharp and determined once more.
He no longer hesitated.
He turned decisively and walked with steps that were still a bit light but exceptionally firm toward that simple wooden door, which seemed to separate two different worlds.
Creak —
The old wooden door made a dry sound as it was slowly pulled open.
The scene outside was not the dilapidated residential corridor he had expected, but a dim, downward-sloping concrete tunnel.
Damp, cold air mixed with the smell of mold and a faint hint of rust rushed toward him.
Old explosion-proof lamps hung on the walls on both sides of the tunnel.
The lamp covers were thick with dust, and the light was a dim yellow, barely illuminating the uneven ground beneath his feet.
‘This place… looks more like a military bunker or the entrance to an underground fortification.’
Lin Mo’s gaze sharpened.
He did not retreat in the slightest; instead, he stepped forward and completely left the room.
He reached back to gently close the door, his eyes alertly scanning the front and back of the tunnel.
The path ahead was deep and dark, leading to parts unknown, while behind him was a set of upward stairs that seemed to lead to the surface.
After a brief internal debate, he chose to go forward.
The sound of his footsteps was amplified in the silent tunnel, echoing with a sense of empty space.
After walking about several dozen meters, a fork appeared.
One side continued downward, while the other extended horizontally.
From a distance, a faint sound could be heard.
Was it… the sound of conversation?
Lin Mo held his breath and focused his mind, silently creeping toward the direction of the sound.
The end of the horizontal tunnel connected to a relatively open space that looked like a simple lounge or a temporary command post.
Several soldiers wearing old combat uniforms with faces marked by fatigue and the traces of smoke were sitting around a table made of wooden crates, discussing something in low voices.
The number “103” was clearly printed on their armbands.
‘It really is Su Xiji’s unit!’
Lin Mo’s heart steadied.
Just as he was considering how to naturally reveal himself, his peripheral vision caught an old military wireless radio sitting on a pile of supply crates in the corner of the lounge.
At that moment, the device was emitting a slight electrical hum, and a somewhat raspy but powerful voice was intermittently coming through the speaker.
“…Repeat, this is the 103rd Division forward command… contact lost with Post No. 3… suspected attack by high-level aberrations… requesting technical support from division headquarters to locate the abnormal signal source… coordinates…”
The voice was suddenly drowned out by a burst of heavy interference noise, becoming blurred and indistinct.
The soldiers in the lounge immediately grew tense and stood up.
“Post No. 3? They just added a platoon yesterday!”
“Another high-level aberration attack? Damn those bastards! Isn’t the main battlefield in Eastern Yue Province?!”
“The communication interference is too strong. We can’t hear the specific coordinates at all!”
“What’s the use even if we hear them? Since the Swordbearer recruitment expansion, there are fewer and fewer Oracles left in our unit. What are we supposed to use against high-level aberrations? Guns? Cannons? Or are we just going to throw human lives at them?!”
“Stop your damn whining! We’re soldiers!”
“…My sense of duty isn’t lower than yours, it’s just… if this continues… our 103rd Division is really going to be wiped out to the last man.”
Hearing this, Lin Mo’s heart skipped a beat.
Post No. 3… high-level aberration attack… the battlefield situation was tragic…
He had a strong premonition.
As long as he uncovered the truth buried behind this deliberately forgotten blocking action, he might hold the key to resolving the Dead Zone.
Thinking of this, Lin Mo no longer hid.
He took a deep breath, suppressed the waves of emotion in his heart, and stepped out from the shadows, walking straight toward the men.