Chapter 386: Blood-Colored Dawn

Chapter 386: The Crimson Dawn

The morning in Wan Zhou City was thick with the scent of blood.

Yet this time, the blood was not mingled with much gunpowder.

As Yu Qian had said, the dead were few.

The corpses on the ground, taken together, numbered only a few dozen.

The bodies lay neatly on the earth, most of them still bound with rope at the wrists.

Perhaps they had tried to struggle, but every effort was meaningless before the battle‑hardened, fire‑powerful volunteers of the company.

Watching the fresh blood flow across the ground, Yu Qian fell into a long silence.

Just moments ago, he had taken part in the execution himself.

Now the muzzle of his Type 191 rifle still held a faint warmth; the touch of that lingering heat seemed a small consolation to the cold morning.

Silently he removed the magazine, reached into the ammunition pouch at his waist, and fed loose rounds back into it one by one.

A faint click rang out, like the ticking of a countdown clock.

It was 7:50 a.m.

Far away, the offensive against Jinling City must already have begun, no?

Would the stench of blood there be heavier than here?

The people there, the guardian troops—would their resistance be more resolute?

Yu Qian did not know, and did not wish to know.

He re‑inserted the magazine, pulled the bolt, and, by habit, engaged the safety.

During training, the company commander had warned that, unless in an emergency, a weapon should not be loaded, nor should one rely on the safety for security.

Because doing so would wear the spring out quickly, and a jam in fierce combat could prove far more deadly.

——

But he thought the commander’s advice was not entirely correct.

Spring wear and jams are low‑probability events, yet on the wasteland danger lurks at every turn, a high‑probability reality.

Rather than fret over rare mishaps, it was wiser to make oneself as safe as possible in the short term.

He had once voiced this to the commander, whose reply was simple.

‘Follow your own habits; after all, you’re already a company commander, you still have a little discretionary authority.’

Discretionary authority.

The term had always been foreign to Yu Qian, yet the commander seemed ever to practice this kind of ‘freedom.’

Limited freedom, the power to decide within the rules.

Just like the order they issued last night.

Not far away, soldiers hauling bodies wore masks and gloves, moving with a brutal clumsiness.

Yu Qian could not help but furrow his brow and shout:

‘Move more gently!’

‘Blood splatter can carry disease!’

‘Understood, sir!’

The soldiers looked up to answer; Yu Qian shook his head and turned away.

Behind him, the volunteers, already formed into ranks, were carrying out their obligatory morning drill, though the mission still demanded a simple routine.

Just an eight‑hundred‑meter run while keeping formation.

Compared to their training at Base 011 or in the mountain city, this intensity barely qualified as a ‘warm‑up,’ merely a kind of awakening protocol.

‘One, two, three, four!’

‘One two three four!’

The resonant chant echoed through Wan Zhou City, as if to thin the suffocating gloom that clung to its streets.

Yu Qian walked straight past the ranks and headed toward the mess hall where breakfast was being prepared.

The aroma of food drifted from the massive cauldrons; he asked the cook:

‘What’s on the menu today?’

‘Report, sir: rice porridge with dried wild boar meat, plus some leafy greens!’

‘As per the commander’s orders, we maintain daily vitamin intake!’

‘We don’t have many greens, so we added some wild herbs!’

‘Very well.’

Yu Qian nodded.

‘Fill me a bowl.’

He took a water flask from his pack, set it on the large table beside the pot; the cook deftly ladled a bowl of meat porridge, yet Yu Qian did not sit to eat.

He capped the flask and walked toward the infirmary camp.

All along the way, countless hungry eyes fixed upon him.

When his gaze swept past, those eyes recoiled in fear.

Only a child, crawling on the ground, struggled yet steadfastly made his way toward Yu Qian.

The child reached out, trying to grasp the flask that held the meat porridge.

Yu Qian, looking down from his height, then crouched, set the flask on the ground, opened the lid, and the scent burst forth.

The child devoured the steaming porridge ravenously, but a careless slip sent the broth spilling across the floor.

He knelt and licked the mess.

A flicker of compassion crossed Yu Qian’s eyes, yet he remained still.

He simply picked up the flask, turned it upside down, gave it two shakes, and poured out the last remnants.

Then he turned and walked away.

Footsteps sounded behind him, the onlookers who had been watching surged forward, scrambling for the spilled porridge.

Yu Qian returned to the mess hall, set the flask down and said:

‘Another bowl, please.’

This time, when he came back, the onlookers gathered around him.

They no longer hid, yet they did not approach.

Yu Qian likewise did not hand over the porridge he held.

He walked forward with unwavering resolve.

On the flank, the makeshift command post had already withdrawn from the vicinity of the Mechanical God's Church.

The soldiers poured a precious barrel of gasoline and a heap of still‑damp firewood onto the sanctuary, igniting it.

Thick smoke billowed upward, and the flames quickly surged skyward.

The church, steeped in filth and sin, was devoured by fire; gear‑shaped insignia fell from above with a deafening “bang.”

The time was 8:10.

The assault on Jinling City should have been over by now.

Had the Mechanical Cathedral there also been reduced to ash?

No.

By the nature of their commanders, a building so fine would never be wasted.

Perhaps it will be repurposed into a “community activity center” of some sort.

Just as they did in Hanshui City.

Yu Qian stared at the burning church for a while, then, lost in thought, some of his meat porridge spilled.

The scalding heat snapped him back to awareness, and he lifted his foot to continue forward.

The infirmary lay just ahead.

Yet the moans within had already quieted considerably.

Many had perished in the night.

Those who survived felt their suffering greatly eased.

Yu Qian pulled aside the infirmary’s curtain.

Two medics were in the act of severing a wounded man's leg.

Their movements were, of course, clumsy—one could even call them chaotic.

But they had no other recourse.

While listening to Fuxi’s instructions over the radio, they tried to slice away the shattered shank of the patient with a dagger that was far from sharp.

The wounded man lay motionless on the cot.

It was the result of an overdose of anesthesia.

Could he survive?

Only the ghosts knew.

Yet without cutting off the leg, he would certainly not live.

Yu Qian stepped to a makeshift bed cobbled from stone and planks, then set his bowl of meat porridge down.

“Eat.”

He spoke:

“Jinling City is gone—no, the Mechanical Church within Jinling City is gone.”

“I bought you half an hour’s delay.”

“Now is the time to make a choice.”

Opposite him, Guo Xu wore a sullen expression.

After a long silence, he said:

“If I were to ask for a little more time to look around…”

“Would your commanders grant me that chance?”

(End of chapter)