Chapter 592: Fog Is Rising

Chapter 592: The Fog Rises

It was about a year ago, when the settlement had just built that church, that Zhao Yinyin began to hear an old man’s voice in her mind from time to time.

At first, she thought it was her imagination, but later she realized it was not. He would not only answer her doubts but occasionally teach her things she had never known.

When she was very young, her grandfather had passed away, and sometimes she felt that this old man was like her grandfather—always so kind.

Later, the old man told her that he was the Holy Son, the very one enshrined in that church.

Yinyin never doubted his words; rather, she had long suspected that his identity might indeed be that of the Holy Son.

After all, who else but a true deity could be omnipresent, omnipotent, and converse with her in her mind?

From then on, she began to pour out all her troubles to the Holy Son without reservation.

Gods do not lie, nor do they gossip about mortal worries.

There was no better confidant than him...

As usual.

Huddled in an empty room on the second floor of the annex, Yinyin told him everything—her quarrels with her best friend, the grief of losing her family, and the helplessness of having no one to rely on.

Wiping her tears, she murmured softly.

“...I’m sorry for rambling on like that. You must find it boring.”

A long silence.

Then that gentle voice drifted slowly into her mind.

“How could I, my child.”

Though it was only a faint comfort, not even an encouragement, a weak but resolute smile appeared on Yinyin’s face, and she perked up a little.

After a moment, she seemed to make a decision, her eyes staring straight ahead.

“I really should apologize to Little Sheep...”

Standing in an unseen place, looking down at the little girl, Luo Qian smiled faintly.

She was just a child after all.

Even such trivial matters could trouble her for so long, while he never did that—once he decided something, he acted immediately.

“If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to,” he said.

Yinyin tilted her head.

“Why?”

Luo Qian wanted to tell her that it was all meaningless. Everyone in this settlement would soon die. So what difference did it make whether she did it or not?

But after a moment’s thought, he didn’t say that.

Even animals in a pen deserved to spend their last seconds happily. He wasn’t killing for the sake of killing.

So he chose a gentler phrasing.

“Time is a good medicine. It heals all wounds equally. Just be patient, and everything will get better.”

Yinyin hugged her knees, burying her chin between them, and muttered softly.

“If I wait long enough, everything will get better?”

“Mm.”

The deity watching over her nodded gently. Though she couldn’t see him, she was sure he made that gesture.

Yinyin trusted him deeply.

But she couldn’t agree with this.

Because she remembered clearly that when she was troubled about whether to help Little Sheep escape this cage, he had told her himself.

After hesitating for a moment, she said softly.

“But... didn’t you tell me that many things can’t wait for hesitation, and that questions left to time will only end in regret?”

...Hmm?

Did I say that?

Facing the innocent girl, Luo Qian was momentarily lost in thought.

Among all the pawns he had chosen, this little girl was the youngest and the most special.

Not because he had any special feelings for her, but simply because, unlike other believers, she poured out every trivial worry of her life to him without exception.

Others mostly held reverence for the gods, feeling honored that they alone could converse face-to-face with the divine.

Thus, even Zhao Tiangan—the girl’s father, who didn’t truly believe in the Torch Faith—would adopt a humble and devout attitude when communicating with a higher being like him, carefully weighing every word.

And he, in turn, naturally exploited that reverence, interacting with these believers who were only worthy of knowing the surface, under the guise of the Holy Son.

Occasionally, he even used their identities to issue commands.

After all, though the chips were implanted in their brains, he couldn’t simply take over their bodies at will.

Full control of the body was only possible during “spiritual wandering.”

But this little girl seemed to treat him as a confidant.

She naively believed that gods wouldn’t gossip about mortal affairs, so she told him almost everything.

Luo Qian tacitly allowed her behavior.

After all, a few words of communication took up little computing power, and this pawn might come in handy at a critical moment.

That was also why, yesterday during the day, he had used the excuse of knowing a perfect hiding place to coax the little girl into going to the basement.

Even if she went mad along with the others, absolute safety couldn’t be guaranteed, especially since there were special guests in the manor.

But staying in that empty basement was definitely safe.

Now, however, it seemed he had done something superfluous—keeping a pawn alive a little longer on the chessboard had brought unnecessary risk to the entire plan.

If she hadn’t gone to the basement, the Alliance might have taken some time to find the laboratory beneath the annex.

No matter how useful this pawn was, the experiments in this settlement were already concluded. Besides, it was hard to say whether letting her survive was truly merciful.

Dying in a dream was painless, but falling into the hands of mutants would be a fate worse than death.

Thinking this, Luo Qian sighed softly.

Indeed...

His cultivation was still insufficient.

Of course, what bothered him more was another matter: why had he said that “questions left to time will only end in regret”?

Regret?

That was something that could never happen to him.

On this path, they had already paid enough of a price, and at the last moment, they had given everything for their ideals.

There was no turning back for him anymore.

"I just feel that running away is not good... Holy Son?" Seeing that the voice in her head had not appeared for a long time, Yinyin asked nervously and cautiously.

She had nothing left.

If even the Holy Son ignored her, she might truly fall into despair.

"Hmm, I'm here... I was just thinking about when I said that line. Sorry to keep you waiting." Luo Qian said with a gentle smile.

A relieved smile spread across Yinyin's face.

"It's okay... You must respond to many people's prayers every day. It's fine if you reply to me a little late, as long as you're still here."

Seeing that the little girl was still worried about him, Luo Qian couldn't help but chuckle.

If she knew that it was he who controlled her father, making him walk before the Alliance to be killed by those soldiers, he wondered if she could still smile.

"The work of a god is not as busy as you imagine."

Yinyin tilted her head.

"But don't many people pray to you?"

He spoke in a gentle tone.

"My child, most people don't truly seek the will of the divine. Before they pray to me, they already have their own answers in their hearts... What they need is perhaps just someone to give them a push. Children like you, who leave everything to me to decide, are rare."

Hearing this, Yinyin's face flushed slightly, and she whispered in shame.

"I'm sorry... for causing you trouble."

"It's fine. I don't see you as a trouble. Rather, I'm glad to see you grow. Before, you always asked for my opinion, but today you made the decision yourself to reconcile with your friend. You have your own judgment now—that's a good thing."

Yinyin asked in confusion.

"Doesn't the divine want people to listen to its words?"

"If everything were left to the divine to decide, I might truly be busy to death."

Having said this half-jokingly, Luo Qian suddenly clicked his tongue softly as he came to his senses.

After all, he had ended up contradicting himself.

But that was understandable. He knew well that the Forerunners were not true gods, nor was the Holy Son. They merely needed the guise of divinity to accomplish things that humans could not.

He was certainly gratified that the settlements here obeyed his will, but from the standpoint of an elder, he still wished to teach this child something more precious.

Obedience makes a good child, but without one's own judgment, one remains forever a child. He hoped she would develop her own opinions, even if that ran counter to the doctrines he preached.

Perhaps the contradiction lay not in his words or actions, but in his heart—he truly did not want this little girl to die.

Not to mention a living person.

Even the flowers and plants in a pot, if you've spent time watering them, you hope they thrive and don't wither.

Not counting the like-minded apostles, this was probably the most he had communicated with a mortal since entering the Sanctuary.

After a moment of thought, Luo Qian devised a compromise.

That was to let this special little lamb out of the fold.

After all, losing one or two was not a big problem for him, and the Alliance was unlikely to glean much from a single sample.

"If you trust me, I can show you a path."

Yinyin nodded seriously.

"Yes! Please speak!"

Luo Qian said slowly.

"Abandon everything here, seek shelter with the people of the Alliance, and leave this place of trouble completely. I think, considering you're still a child, they will take you in."

Yinyin looked at him in confusion, her big eyes shimmering with disbelief and surprise.

"But... aren't the Alliance people the bad guys? They killed my father, and I heard... they're going to tear down your church."

Watching the little girl trying so hard to prove those people were villains, Luo Qian suddenly burst into laughter, nearly laughing to tears.

A pity—he no longer had that.

Until those surprised eyes turned into bewilderment, he slowly spoke again.

"Listen, at your age you may not understand, but when you grow up, you will... The things you're talking about now don't matter at all."

Yinyin stared wide-eyed into the void.

"How could that be..."

Without explaining to her, Luo Qian continued in a serious tone.

"This settlement is caught between two behemoths, and indeed all settlements on this land are the same. No matter what choice they make, their end will not be good. And if you want to survive, the only way is to get far away from here."

Yinyin bit her lip and squeezed out a sentence.

"But why must I defect to the Alliance... Can't you take me with you?"

Luo Qian's expression froze for a moment. After a long silence, he said ambiguously,

"Our place still needs some time..."

If he drove her into another fold, it would be meaningless. Even if the other Forerunners looked after her out of respect for him, the experiments would still proceed as planned.

Yinyin's eyes were filled with confusion and bewilderment.

"Time?"

Luo Qian nodded and said patiently,

"Yes... This is a vast project."

"New humanity, a new society—all of this takes a very long time to build. We will make this utopia as perfect as possible, and for that, we need to give our lives, courage, and resolve. I know that one day it will become paradise, and the whole world will, but not now... Can you give me some time?"

He didn't know why he was seeking this child's consent, and even using a gentle, inquiring tone.

He didn't need to do this—after all, everything was already decided. Even if she shook her head, it wouldn't change the fate of this settlement.

Yet he still did it.

Perhaps...

He was only trying to convince himself.

Yinyin, half-understanding, looked at the empty space, nodded lightly, and forced a smile onto her face.

"Okay... Though I don't quite understand, you won't hurt Yinyin, right?"

The air was silent for a while.

Then, after a moment, a voice came.

"Yes, I promise I won't hurt you... Thank you."

He did not look into those innocent eyes, only left a timid word, and then quietly and hastily departed.

That smile caused a pang in his heart.

Though he had long abandoned that thing.

This was perhaps his only regret since entering the Sanctuary.

Indeed, my cultivation is still insufficient.

Though she heard no sound of farewell, Yin Yin could sense that he had left this place.

With a soft grunt, she jumped down from the chair and was about to step outside to find the lamb and clear up last night's misunderstanding, when she heard a creak from the floorboards beyond the door.

This annex was, after all, an old house, and the wooden floors had grown aged like this.

She paused for a moment, then hurried to the door and pulled it open, only to see that familiar face not far from the entrance.

The lamb stared blankly at her, clutching a handful of chocolate candies in her hand—those were given to them last night by the older brothers and sisters from the Alliance.

Back then, she had set aside Yin Yin’s share, but had never found the right moment to give it. It wasn’t until just now, during the blood draw, that Sister Chen Yutong had pressed another handful into her hand, telling her to share with her good friend, that she finally mustered the courage to come over.

But just as she reached the door, she heard a voice from inside the room…

“…Yin Yin?”

“Lamb?”

Yin Yin stared at her blankly, her expression shifting between panic and alertness, as if she had done something guilty, and said in a bewildered tone, “You… why are you here?”

“The older brothers and sisters from outside gave me some chocolate, and I wanted to share some with you…”

The lamb looked at her nervously, swallowed, and continued.

“Who were you talking to…”

Yin Yin’s face turned slightly pale.

The Saint had told her that she must never let the people from the North know that she could communicate with him, or else, given their hatred for the Torch, they would never let her go.

“I…”

Seeing Yin Yin’s face full of tension and fear, the lamb vaguely guessed something, but said nothing, only stepped forward gently and embraced her.

Yin Yin was stunned by the sudden hug, not knowing how to react.

“…Huh?”

“It’s okay, I won’t tell anyone…” Looking at the lost and helpless Yin Yin, the lamb lifted her head and gave her an encouraging smile, whispering in a gentle voice, “This is our secret… okay?”

The young lady had always taken good care of her.

She didn’t know if this was the right thing to do, but now it was her turn to repay her.

“…Lamb.” Yin Yin stared blankly at this sister two years younger than herself, and suddenly her eyes brimmed with tears.

There was regret, there was grievance… and many emotions she couldn’t articulate but that choked her chest.

It wasn’t just because of the hurtful words she had said last night, but because she suddenly realized that the person most worth confiding in, the one who cared about her most, had always been right by her side.

Yet what shamed her was that she had never truly valued this clumsy friend, and in her subconscious, she had never even considered her a friend—only using the lamb’s special status to tease the servants.

Otherwise, why would she rather confide in a mysterious deity than speak a single heartfelt word to her?

Otherwise, why would she, knowing full well there was no escape, still drag her along to do things that might invite scolding?

She had always led her around like a pet, never once asking what she herself wanted—whether she truly wished to leave this place, whether she needed that “place no one would find” to hide for a while.

Even after last night’s grave incident, she hadn’t cared enough to ask her a single question, only worrying about the shift in her own status and the fear of losing her only friend after losing everything else.

Seeing her young lady suddenly burst into tears, the lamb didn’t know what was on her mind, but simply patted her back gently in comfort.

“It’s alright now… Little Lamb will be with you.”

I don’t know how long passed.

Outside the window, a gray-green fog began to spread.

It was a color Yin Yin had never seen before, and the impenetrable haze carried an ominous air.

Noticing the change outside the window as well, the lamb stopped her gentle patting and murmured to herself.

“The fog is rising…”

At that moment, a faint creak came from the direction of the stairs.

Yin Yin, harboring her secret, immediately looked over, but saw nothing—only an empty corridor.

Was it an illusion?

Just as she thought this, her peripheral vision caught a wet footprint slowly appearing at the corner of the stairs.

As if a boot that had just waded through grass had stepped there.

The moment she saw that footprint, her heart leaped into her throat.

…A ghost?!

…

The fog rose suddenly, and against all reason, it happened in the afternoon, instantly enveloping the entire Pinecone Wood Farm.

The people gathered at the farm’s entrance were filled with panic, thinking the Alliance had activated that mental interference device again, and that last night’s events would repeat.

Overseers, serfs, and farm servants alike scattered like a swarm, fleeing desperately into their homes, hurriedly pulling out locks to secure themselves.

Those without locks could only find a hemp rope, tying their family members separately to pillars or stoves.

This saved the players quite a bit of trouble.

With the “monsters” potentially spawning anywhere, having so many people gathered together was indeed dangerous.

But no one let their guard down.

This sudden gray-green dense fog was clearly a trick from the Torch Church. The players gathered at the entrance put on their helmets and gas masks, spread out on alert, and prepared for any unexpected incidents.

“What’s up with this fog…”

“Poison gas?”

“Doesn’t seem like it… breathing doesn’t seem affected either.”

“It just smells a bit.”

“And it’s so damn green!”

Whispers exchanged in the communication channel.

Luo Yu glanced up at the sky; earlier he could see the clouds, but now only a shit-green halo was visible.

The air was as thick as jelly, carrying a damp, moldy smell, like clothes left unwashed for a long time.

Just then, a call came through the channel from the Steel Heart.

“…This is the Steel Heart aerial command post. We see you surrounded by thick fog from above. Report your situation immediately!”

Holding a rifle, Old Bai, clad in power armor, walked to the farm’s entrance and said gravely, “Everything’s normal here for now. Can you estimate the range of this fog? Is it just our area, or the whole region?”

“The fog covers about a thousand square kilometers, and you’re right in the center.”

“I suspect the Torch is behind this… Can you send a plane nearby to take a look? Focus on the area from Pinecone Wood Farm to the Jinhé city district.”

“Understood.”

With such thick fog, visibility on the ground must be poor, and probably not much could be seen from the air either. Old Bai didn’t hold out much hope.

What he truly feared was that the mutants might seize this chance to slip out of the city.

But what bothered him even more was how this thick fog had come about.

Just then, Luoyu, standing to the side, gently pressed his forehead and spoke in a low voice.

“…They’re spores.”

Jieyan froze, staring at him in astonishment.

“Spores?!”

“Mm…” Luoyu nodded gravely, continuing, “They’re very similar to the spores of mutant slime molds… Xiaoyu told me.”

Though Xiaoyu didn’t rely on spores to exchange information or reproduce, having grown up in the environment of Qingshui City, it did have some understanding of ordinary slime mold spores.

Yet after hearing his explanation, the group of players all wore expressions of surprise, especially Jieyan, who looked at him in disbelief.

Spores?

Why would there be spores in Jinhe City?

There wasn’t even a hive here!

Sharenzhibi swallowed hard.

“Wait… I don’t get it, so I’ll ask—didn’t your fruiting body die before?”

“It left one inside me, that biological prosthetic that boosts HP recovery… And don’t say weird things—what do you mean ‘my fruiting body’? It’s Xiaoyu’s!” Luoyu shot him an annoyed glare.

Sharenzhibi gave an awkward smile.

Just then, Laobai interrupted their exchange.

“This isn’t the time for that… The situation’s changed. We need to evacuate the key NPCs and equipment from here for now.”

Suddenly remembering he still had a mission worth a hundred thousand silver coins, Luoyu quickly added.

“Make sure to take that little lamb with you too.”

“Of course. She’s a crucial research subject. We’d leave anyone behind but her.”

Jieyan then asked.

“What about the local residents?”

“There are forty or fifty thousand people here… It’s impossible to evacuate everyone, and leaving the walls would be even more dangerous.”

Glancing at the houses beyond the estate, Laobao continued in a low voice.

“Anyway, we’ll do what we can.”

Just then, a deafening explosion erupted behind them, followed by a burst of gunfire.

Turning sharply to look back, Laobai’s expression shifted.

It was from the direction of the annex!

…

In the lush green jungle, heads of a sickly green swayed, their knotted muscles draped with orange ammunition and grim weaponry.

Kulu stood before this group of mutants, staring at the fog-shrouded plain ahead, his pupils gleaming with bloodthirsty malice.

The fog, too foul for the weak old humans, smelled to him like a refreshing fragrance.

Within that fragrance, he had already caught the scent of slaughter and death…

Last night, he had suffered a bitter defeat, losing countless brothers and even half an arm.

A useless wretch like him should have been chopped up and thrown into a pot, but the chieftain hadn’t punished his stupidity; instead, he had mercifully forgiven him.

Not only that, but the church had fitted him with a mechanical arm and implanted a host of mechanical prosthetics into his broken body, elevating his destructive power to a new level.

To make up for the losses his failure had brought to the tribe, and to repay the church for giving him another chance on the battlefield, he had volunteered for this mission, vowing to bring back fifty thousand heads for Lord Ga’en.

To honor the brothers who fell last night, and the martyred apostles and executioners.

Watching the thickening fog, a cruel smile gradually spread across Kulu’s face. The church hadn’t lied to him.

Under the cover of this fog, the once impassable plain would open its gates wide to them.

Even if the airship flying above knew they might be hiding in the fog, it wouldn’t have a clue where to fire.

Then, a soft explosion drifted from afar.

It was the signal to attack.

Kulu took a deep breath, letting the scent fill his chest, the blood in his veins boiling like magma.

He raised his mechanical arm and the axe-like gun in his hand, letting out a roar in a rough, savage voice.

“Kulu says, chop up those two-legged beasts—”

“Leave not a single one!”