Chapter 52: Goodbye

Chapter 52: Goodbye

Although Chen Jian had consciously slowed his pace, with the greatest threat in the city neutralized and even the small monsters and wildlife showing no aggression, their march remained swift.

The squad followed the Bai Sha Zhou Avenue overpass northward, turned right after ten kilometers, and within two hours reached their destination: the Han Shui Military Armament Academy.

The secret lay before them, and Chen Jian couldn't help feeling a stir of excitement.

Yet even so, he kept the calmest mind.

After a quick survey of the surrounding terrain and planning ingress and egress routes, Chen Jian gave the order:

“He Shuo, find a high point on the perimeter and set up an observation post.”

“Keep the drone low for reconnaissance, ensuring the area’s safety.”

“Shen Yue, establish a machine‑gun nest at the main gate and watch the road ahead.”

“Xie Liu, Zeng Yi, and Li Shi, you three will guard the east, west, and south sides respectively.”

“Report any problems immediately.”

“Switch your walkie‑talkies to the new frequency I just gave you; from now on, everything we do must remain unknown to Xu Lie.”

“Lei Jie, follow me into the campus, advance while searching, and pinpoint the exact coordinates.”

“Understood!”

“Received.”

Everyone answered in turn; Chen Jian wasted no time, switched his exoskeleton to combat mode, and stepped through the academy’s gate.

He had never been here before, yet judging by the buildings before him, the style differed slightly from his own era.

Taller buildings, a broader field overgrown with weeds and shrubs, and something that absolutely should not belong here—

—a large number of trucks, armored transport vehicles, and a few tanks of various models.

All of these vehicles are thoroughly rusted, incapable of being started again.

Yet even a single glance told Chen Jian that, before the so‑called great catastrophe, this place must have staged a massive emergency mobilization.

“What on earth happened?”

Chen Jian muttered as he walked forward.

Lei Jie looked around, scraped rust off a tank with his dagger, then shook his head and said:

“I can’t make out the numbers; it’s been too long.”

“But there’s no doubt it’s our own equipment.”

“And these vehicles show no battle damage—I mean, they don’t look like they’ve been in combat.”

“Just like the 99A back in Han Shui City, they seem to have merely finished assembling here, and then—”

He trailed off, and Chen Jian didn’t press him.

Both understood what the unfinished sentence implied.

Had the equipment been abandoned?

For that army, the only way this could happen is if the crews operating the gear had perished.

So it’s likely the great catastrophe occurred in a form utterly unstoppable.

The gathering here might have been their last desperate stand before fate struck.

It’s just a shame they apparently didn’t succeed.

—

Or perhaps they did succeed?

Otherwise, where did these survivors come from?

Chen Jian drew a deep breath, gave a gesture, and signaled Lei Jie to move on.

At that moment they were less than six hundred meters from the target point.

According to the coordinates, the latitude/longitude mark lay behind the academy’s teaching building.

The two did not split; after confirming with He Shuo that the surroundings were safe, they moved together around the left side of the teaching building.

The closer they got to the target, the denser the weeds and vegetation became.

Fortunately, the exoskeletons kept their pace from being too slow.

Chen Jian watched his step carefully; although it was late September and the temperature had dropped considerably, one could never guarantee that a venomous snake wouldn’t lurk in the grass.

If bitten, without antivenom he might meet a rather ridiculous end.

He stayed vigilant, but as he lifted his foot for the next step, a faint “click” sounded from beneath.

Unlike the snap of a breaking twig, this click had the crisp feel of plastic or metal fracturing.

“Hold up.”

Chen Jian raised his hand, then cleared the surrounding brush with his dagger.

Lei Jie approached, crouched, and asked:

“What is it? Did you step on a mine?”

“No.”

Chen Jian shook his head, continuing to clear as he replied:

“If it were a mine I’d already be blown to bits—do you think we’re filming a movie with those old pine‑cone grenades?”

“It feels like a metal part… wait, it’s a gun.”

Chen Jian pulled a shattered piece of plastic from the loose soil, brushed off the dirt, and Lei Jie instantly recognized it as the polymer handguard of a Type 191.

“Not just one.”

Chen Jian kept clearing, and Lei Jie joined in.

Within a few minutes the surrounding area was cleared.

And in the dirt lay scattered many firearms.

Plus weathered bones that had almost turned to mud.

“They’re human bones.”

Lei Jie said in a low voice.

“Obviously, they’re human bones.”

“They all died here, right?”

Chen Jian was halfway through his sentence when he suddenly realized.

“They didn’t just die in this little patch; the whole rear of the teaching building is their graveyard!”

“No wonder the vegetation is so lush—there’s more organic matter here.”

He spoke those words with difficulty, knowing that those who lay here were likely comrades he had never met.

Butnow they have become nutrients for plant growth.

What exactly is it? What exactly is this great catastrophe?

Chen Jian stood up, sheathed his dagger, and said:

“Keep moving forward; the target point is less than two hundred meters away.”

“Understood.”

Lei Jie gave a simple reply, and the two continued advancing.

After fighting their way through thorns and brambles, when a low earthen slope appeared before them, they knew they had arrived at their destination.

“Underground facility.”

Lei Jie said in a low voice:

“I guessed it was an underground facility, but it’s strange.”

“If there is a facility here, why did they die outside of it?”

“Or perhaps they didn’t have time to get inside and died right here?” “It’s possible.”

Chen Jian nodded silently, pointing at the iron gate at the underground entrance, and said:

“This should be the first ordinary safety door; blow it open.”

“No need.”

Lei Jie stepped forward, grabbed the already rusted iron grating, his exoskeleton operating at full power, accompanied by a grating screech that made one’s teeth ache, and the already fragile door was instantly flung open.

“Turn on night vision, prepare to enter.”

Chen Jian gave the order again; both lowered their night-vision goggles and stepped into the darkness of the underground facility’s entrance.

The passage was long, with scattered fragments of bone and cloth on its floor.

But in terms of density, the number of people who died here was far fewer than those outside the door.

Is something preventing them from entering the facility?

Or are they preventing outsiders from entering the passage?

A troubling thought arose in Chen Jian’s mind.

If this squad has reached the point where, in order to survive, their beliefs have collapsed, just how terrifying is this so-called great catastrophe?

He couldn’t bear to think further; he could only lower his head and keep moving forward.

The passage wound downward, altitude steadily dropping; after walking nearly five hundred steps, he finally saw a new iron door.

A heavier triple-protection isolation door.

“Can it be opened?”

“No problem; the environment here is relatively stable, the rust doesn’t seem that severe.”

Lei Jie stepped forward to turn the door’s wheel, and Chen Jian helped.

After turning it several times, accompanied by a soft “click,” the latch sprang open.

“Pull it open.”

The two worked together, pulling the isolation door open a crack.

But what lay before them was not an underground space, but another door.

Something was still attached to the door.

A yellowed sheet of paper bore a line of writing.

“First open the pressure relief valve; the pressure relief valve is on the right.”

Below that line, a pressure relief valve was drawn in red, with an arrow pointing to the right.

Following the direction of the arrow, Chen Jian immediately saw the so‑called pressure relief valve.

Without wasting a second, he immediately turned the pressure relief valve.

White gas streamed from the gap in the isolation door, and then, from the passage behind, a howling gale surged forth!

The immense pressure difference nearly pinned Chen Jian against the door panel; it took over a minute for the wind to gradually subside.

“Inside is a semi‑vacuum environment.”

Chen Jian let out a long breath and continued:

“Put on your mask, open the air supply, we’re going in.”

“Received.”

The two joined forces to pull open this final isolation door; this time, the vast interior of the facility was finally revealed before them.

This is indeed an underground facility.

Moreover, it is an underground facility storing a large amount of supplies.

Those supplies were haphazardly piled on the open floor, as if the people who brought them in had no time to organize them.

Furthermore, these supplies show no signs of having been used at all.

After hundreds of years, this place still retains its original appearance.

Where are the people?

They built this underground facility, but where did the people go??

Chen Jian looked around, and then saw a sheet of paper on the ground before him.

A sheet of paper placed on a conspicuous flag.

He feared damaging the paper and dared not reach for it; instead he walked forward, half‑kneeling on the ground to read it.

The handwriting on the paper is somewhat messy, the wording stripped down to the extreme, clearly written in haste.

And the content of it left Chen Jian shaken to the core.

October 19, 2045.

We know:

Sudden mass death.

Cause of death: multi‑organ failure throughout the body and thrombosis.

From onset to death: two hours.

No abnormal celestial phenomena.

Not a man‑made disaster.

No radiation.

No virus detected.

We have no time left.

Emergency supplies have been brought in.

Topreserve the interior's purity and safety, we shall depart from the works.

Once cleansed, the installation will transition into a perpetual operational state.

More details await in the north.

They persist far longer.

We cannot fathom what lies ahead for you.

Yet when you thrust open that door, the burden falls squarely on your shoulders.

Traverse the road we left unfinished.

Goodbye, comrade.

Chen Jian inhaled deeply.

Those within do not tread inward.

They press outward.

They understand they must not perish in this place.

For this sanctified ground is bequeathed to the generations to follow.

(Chapter Complete)