Chapter 154: Luanniao

Chapter 154: The Luan Bird

From the mouth of that man called Tang Dao, Chen Jian heard a great many tidings about the Forbidden Zone.

———

To be precise, they ought not be called intelligence, but rather legend.

In his account, the Forbidden Zone is the so‑called Fallen Furnace, a place that for a long stretch radiated scorching heat like a mountain of flame.

And when the furnace’s fire finally died, a curse descended, turning Tongling City into a barren wasteland where not even grass or trees could grow.

No one knows what the furnace truly was, yet through repeated forays the locals have uncovered many uncanny things.

Such as a luminous lake that glows with an eerie light, a black forest that, once entered, saps the life from every electronic device, maddening phantasms, and fleeting specters.

It is as if a realm of demons and monsters, a world that should never have existed, has taken root here.

Yet Chen Jian knows that the world does not harbor so many fiends and specters.

Every anomaly must have a rational explanation that conforms to science.

Thus his eagerness to step into the Forbidden Zone grew ever more urgent.

After the great procurement ended, after every piece of gear was tallied and the surplus shipped back to Huangshi City, Chen Jian’s squad entered a long period of waiting.

Tang Dao sent his men back and forth no fewer than ten times before finally sketching a map that led deep into the Forbidden Zone.

By then, a full thirty‑six hours had already elapsed.

When he next laid eyes on Chen Jian and his companions, his face was alight with unabashed exhilaration.

“Boss, I finally understand what your device is doing!”

“You really pulled a fast one on me!”

“But it matters not; in business we keep business. As long as we can get in and bring the goods out, this little matter is settled in a single stroke!”

Hearing this, Chen Jian gave a slight nod, but did not speak at once.

He realized the other party was certainly no simpleton.

Grasping the principle of a Geiger counter in a heartbeat is not extraordinary, yet after being duped he kept his cool and pressed on with the deal; such composure alone explains how he survives in this world as a mercenary.

After a pause, Chen Jian replied:

“As you say, in business we reserve a right to hold back certain things.”

“If you have completed your task, then I suppose we should set out as well.”

“Where’s the map? Bring it out; if we find no fault, we can continue our transaction.”

Across from them, Tang Dao’s eyes flickered slightly, then he said:

“No rush, boss?”

“We were going to leave together anyway; it matters not whose hands hold the map.”

“As long as we locate what we seek and return safely, we will hand the map over to you.”

“When there’s wealth, everyone shares—right, boss?”

“You’re right.”

Chen Jian smiled faintly and, in a flat tone, said:

“Then shall we depart?”

“We may.”

Tang Dao nodded approvingly, while Chen Jian called the other three to don the purchased gear, dusted their hazmat suits with lead powder, and then swallowed a hefty dose of metal chelators to neutralize radiation.

With everything in order, the four‑person squad merged with Tang Dao’s eight‑person party and set course toward the Forbidden Zone.

Though it is called a “Forbidden Zone,” Tongling City in fact imposes no ban on anyone’s entry or exit.

Or rather, they turn a blind eye to it.

Thus, after passing through a few lightly guarded checkpoints, the squad slipped smoothly into the Forbidden Zone.

At first, Chen Jian felt little difference.

Yet as they pressed onward, he gradually noticed the trees around them growing ever lower.

Clearly, the radiation spreading outward from the core had crippled plant growth; the nearer one draws to the heart of the zone, the harsher the conditions for life become.

It mirrored the situation at Chernobyl decades ago, but three centuries have sharpened and intensified the effect.

While observing the surroundings, the squad kept moving forward.

Chen Jian and his men deliberately fell to the rear of the column; Ji Xing slipped close to Chen Jian, lowered her voice to a whisper, and leaned in to say:

“These people are no ordinary lot.”

“Six of the eight are Saint‑Blood bearers, and that Tang Dao is one of them.”

“Their weapons outclass those of ordinary mercenaries—fully automatic rifles and a stockpile of grenades.”

“I reckon they’re not here to guide us; we are the guides.”

“I understand.”

Chen Jian answered in a low voice.

How could he not know?

From the moment they refused to hand over the map, he had already guessed their intention.

What they covet is the treasure at the core of the Forbidden Zone, though they do not know what that treasure is nor its exact location, hence they need Chen Jian’s party to lead the way.

Perhaps they will even force the four of us into the high‑radiation sector to fetch those high‑value items that lie there, items no one dares to claim.

Against such a threat, Chen Jian had long made his preparations.

No elaborate tactics, no reliance on high‑tech electronics.

He reverted to the most primitive, most savage strategy.

His task was reduced to a single, crystal‑clear purpose: strike them down before they can act.

These hunters will not make a move until they see the treasure, and he need not actually let them lead him to the final destination.

That temporal edge is Chen Jian’s insurance.

Seeing his confident expression, Ji Xing said no more.

She fixed her gaze on the movements of the men ahead, already resolved that at the first sign of abnormality she would pounce, eliminating the greatest threat before it could act.

Fortunately, the party’s progress remained smooth.

Tang Dao, ever dutiful, kept pointing the way while continuously exclaiming:

“This may be the most successful expedition since the Forbidden Zone first existed.”

“I mean, although many have entered before, none ever produced a clear route map.”

“We know the luminous lake must not be approached, the black forest must not be entered, yet we failed to realize that this encircling mountain is the most perilous place of all.”

“Tsk tsk, boss—look at your instruments; as we near the mountain ring, the readings jump straight from one‑hundred to three‑hundred.”

“No wonder so many meet their end here; the curse that hangs over this place is terrifyingly potent.”

“Such is the power of knowledge.”

Chen Jian gave a perfunctory reply, then turned his head to Lei Jie and said:

“We’re getting close to the crash site; this must be the point where the nuclear fuel, scattered by the explosion, settled in concentration.”

“Undoubtedly, the so‑called furnace is nothing but the reactor.”

“But the question remains—why would they transport a reactor by cargo plane?”

Hearing this, Lei Jie shook his head and said:

“I’m as clueless as you are.”

“Yet after we discard every impossibility, only one scenario remains.”

“What fell was a nuclear‑powered aircraft.”

“—Could such a thing truly exist?”

Chen Jian asked, puzzled.

“Why not? The T‑119 is a nuclear bomber, still using the ancient VVR‑C reactor.”

“In our era, thorium‑based molten‑salt reactors were already mature, miniaturization breakthroughs had been achieved, and the notion of a nuclear plane was foreseeable.”

“Otherwise, if it isn’t a nuclear plane, what else could it be?”

“A fusion reactor, perhaps? Fusion produces no radiation.”

“Indeed.”

Chen Jian sighed, then continued:

“Which means the cargo this plane carried has nothing to do with the so‑called furnace.”

“It may even have been damaged or completely vanished in the crash.”

“We might have made a futile trip—no point.” “Whether it’s worth it or not, we have to investigate; the Fuxi project is clearly important. Though we can’t confirm a direct link to the Great Cataclysm, the clues tie it to Jinling and the Mountain City.”

“It’s a lifeline; we must cling to it at any cost.”

“I understand.”

Chen Jian fell silent; the group followed Tang Dao’s footsteps onward.

Guided by the map, they moved swiftly, and in under two hours they entered the core zone where the Geiger counter read above two hundred.

“Press on; we’re about to reach the true heart of the forbidden zone.”

“We’re now a kilometer from the furnace’s impact site.”

Tang Dao halted, pointing ahead, and said:

“Our scouts have confirmed there’s only one safe path into the core, and the readings can stay around two hundred.”

“But once you step within five hundred meters of the core, the curse’s intensity will become… uniform.”

“Uniformly hovering around four hundred.”

“We can’t linger in there; it will claim our lives.”

“Understood.”

Chen Jian’s gaze remained steady, a smile playing on his lips as he said:

“Then we move fast and leave fast—once we find what we need, we retreat immediately!”

“Agreed.”

Tang Dao nodded without hesitation, then added:

“However, I suggest at least one of your two guards stay behind.”

“Likewise, I’ll leave at least three of my men.”

“No one knows what we’ll encounter there; if a withdrawal becomes necessary, they’ll be our best cover, right?”

A reasonable proposal.

Yet the moment Tang Dao’s words faded, Chen Jian had already made his decision.

It was clear he had discerned the difference between himself and Ji Xing and Xie Liu.

He now knew he was not a Holy‑Blooded one.

That, in itself, was no great revelation.

But Tang Dao should not have spoken it, nor should he have tried to diminish his strength in such a manner.

Did he not realize that this suggestion was already an almost blatant threat?

Perhaps he knew, but simply didn’t care.

Chen Jian looked toward Ji Xing, as if seeking her counsel.

Tang Dao stood there slack‑jawed, unguarded.

And then, in the next instant—

Ji Xing erupted.

The dominance of a Source‑blooded over a common Holy‑blooded was laid bare; to Chen Jian and Lei Jie she may have been only a heartbeat faster than Tang Dao, but to Tang Dao that heartbeat meant life or death.

A long blade swept, and a head flew off.

Instantly, Chen Jian and Lei Jie pulled the triggers.

The lightning‑fast Holy‑blooded froze for a heartbeat when Ji Xing struck, but in the blink of an eye they recovered, charging toward Chen Jian’s group.

The two sides were less than twenty metres apart; Chen Jian had less than a second to react.

—

Yet a bullet’s flight time is far shorter than a second.

Waist‑shot, a sweeping arc.

The 201th squadron unleashed an unparalleled hail of fire; a torrent of bullets poured forth, and the twin rifles’ white‑capped rounds had already sealed the positions of several Holy‑blooded.

A Holy‑blooded soaring in mid‑air was felled, and in the same breath Ji Xing spun back, confronting another Holy‑blooded attacking from behind.

Simultaneously, Xie Liu blocked the flanks of Chen Jian and Lei Jie.

Enemies surged from every direction—could they not be stopped? Could the frontal assault be any less stoppable?

Only one “unmatched” Holy‑blooded remained in Tang Dao’s squad; after a brief hesitation he chose to pull back, seeking cover before opening fire.

“Bang!”

The disparity in reaction speed formed an insurmountable chasm for Chen Jian and Lei Jie; no matter how much they tried to seize the initiative, they could not halt a Holy‑blooded who could maneuver swiftly while maintaining perfect aim.

Yet the protection offered by GJBV‑class body armor was a barrier even the 7.62 mm rounds from that veteran’s antiquated rifle could not breach.

Chen Jian barely moved; after a single suppressive burst he swiftly lifted his barrel, employing the standard TOB Ma‑Gaipu grip to tame the muzzle climb, and, alongside Lei Jie, intercepted the ever‑shifting Holy‑blooded.

Bullets rained like a storm upon the enemy’s cover, and the sustained fire of the two light machine guns left the opposition dumbfounded.

He watched, eyes wide, as his own bullet struck Chen Jian squarely in the chest, yet Chen Jian's body merely shivered and he instantly steadied himself.

At the same moment, the bullets he fired had sealed off every possible avenue of escape.

At that range, the gun was both unnervingly accurate and swift.

In less than twenty seconds, Chen Jian and his companion emptied an entire magazine.

Before them, no standing target remained.

Behind them, Ji Xing had completed her hunt, then turned to the side to aid Xie Liu in eliminating the last man.

The forest fell silent, save for the lingering haze of gunpowder.

Chen Jian swapped in a fresh magazine, aimed at the two fleeing figures sprinting to the side, but ultimately lowered his barrel.

"Not kill?"

"Just a hired hand, never mind."

"We never intended to linger; we're not afraid they'll report."

"Too many acts of total extermination can corrupt one's soul."

Chen Jian could see that these two were nothing more than cannon fodder in the Tangdao squad.

From the start of the fight to its end they never fired a single shot, only scrambling desperately to flee.

Perhaps they had been brought in by Tangdao, destined to meet their end at the last moment.

If that were so, sparing them was not an act of mercy.

Ji Xing gave a noncommittal nod, hesitated a heartbeat, then drew a pistol from her waist.

With a sudden surge, she leapt forward.

"Bang! Bang!"

Two gunshots cracked through the woods; when she returned, Ji Xing spoke:

"They saw your battle, and it could reveal your identities."

"So, I have ruined their tongues."

".You could have used a blade."

Chen Jian shrugged helplessly and said:

"We can't catch up; can you not catch up either?"

".Makes sense."

Ji Xing nodded, then asked:

"And now?"

"Press onward."

Chen Jian pointed ahead.

There, the faint outline of a colossal aircraft loomed into view.

Chen Jian was certain it was none of the planes he had ever known.

Gazing at its vague silhouette, two words rose unbidden in his mind.

Luan Bird.

(End of Chapter)