Chapter 746: The Fourth Stage of Heaven!

Chapter 746: The Fourth Stage of Heaven!

Beside the runway of the Weifu military base.

A Tyrant transport plane slowly came to a halt, and two "human" figures passed through the open hatch.

With an expression of being drained dry, Xiaoyu's fruiting body weakly made a sighing gesture.

"Yiwu... (Not tasty.)"

Able to understand the information conveyed by that voice, Luoyu said with a mix of laughter and tears.

"They weren't meant to be food in the first place... Don't you dare eat them."

Three days ago, the Administrator suddenly bulk-purchased a thousand biological prosthetics from Xiaoyu.

Although this amount of biomass was at most a dandruff flake for Xiaoyu, who had inherited the Qingquan City hive mother, the little one had quite a few complaints about the users of those biological prosthetics.

In its own words, those guys were incredibly boring—many individuals sharing a single brain.

Not only that.

These guys hated talking and communicated with each other using only "eye contact."

It didn't know how to describe them, only felt they weren't quite like normal people.

Xiaoyu: "Yiwu yiwu! (Mm! Xiaoyu won't eat random things! But it's okay, that one is tasty!)"

Luoyu: "That one?"

Xiaoyu: "Yiwu!" (The hive mother under the mountain... so big, hmm, I'm not sure I can eat it all, might need to use more fruiting bodies.)

Some hive mothers are not very strong themselves, but their fruiting bodies are exceptionally powerful, producing spores that can cover an entire city. Others are the opposite, producing almost no fruiting bodies or spore clouds, using the limited organic matter only to strengthen themselves.

Listening to Xiaoyu's murmurs, Luoyu reached out and affectionately rubbed its round head.

"Do your best."

If that didn't work, they could still use trains to haul the fruiting bodies from Qingquan City to the front line, carload after carload.

The communication cables here had already been laid, and the base stations were set up; the total bandwidth of the base stations could easily support one or two thousand "Yiwu"s.

Feeling the warmth on its head, Xiaoyu rubbed its head against his hand with a look of enjoyment.

But just then, it suddenly stopped in alert, its amber pupils fixed on the sky.

Noticing the abnormality in Xiaoyu's movement, Luoyu withdrew his hand and asked with a serious expression.

"What's wrong?"

"Yiwu. (Something very stinky is approaching...)"

Pausing, it seemed to ponder for a moment, its eyes faintly glowing.

"Yiwu! (...But it should taste fragrant!)"

...

A gray-green mist gradually rose, spreading across the endless wasteland.

A construction team by the Wei River.

A middle-aged man wearing a hard hat and carrying a shovel suddenly had a look of fear on his face, his lips trembling as he muttered.

"...The fog is rising."

His name was Wang Youtian, a survivor from the southern part of Jinchuan Province. Hearing that working here paid money and also gave land, he joined the Southern Construction Corps and had been working for three months.

As a local, he knew the situation here better than anyone.

Seeing his pale face, the construction team leader Hong Liming realized something was wrong and walked over to ask.

"What happened? Do you know something?"

Swallowing hard, Wang Youtian said in a trembling voice.

"It happened once before..."

"Happened?" Hong Liming frowned and pressed, "What happened?"

Recalling what had happened back then, a trace of fear appeared in Wang Youtian's eyes.

"Last time it was like this too—the fog suddenly rose, and when it dispersed, the entire Fuzhuang was gone: people gone, livestock gone, orchards gone, crops gone... Except for the houses, everything living had vanished."

All gone?

Hong Liming was stunned, looking at him with a strange expression, his face full of disbelief.

He had never heard of such a strange thing, but the man's expression didn't seem fake.

After thinking for a moment, seeing that it was getting late, he shouted to the team members who were working.

"Wrap up! Back to base!"

Hearing the team leader's order, the construction team repairing the road immediately packed up their tools, and the two excavators also began to turn around and head back.

Watching the suddenly halted construction team, the rat-folk working in the fields looked up and curiously glanced over.

"Why are these guys knocking off so early today?"

"The sun must be rising from the west."

"Could it be related to this fog?"

"The fog did come strangely... and it smells a bit off too."

Everyone exchanged glances, whispering and discussing in low voices.

At that moment, a member of the construction team walked to the edge of the ridge and shouted to them.

"Something's not right here. You should knock off too—don't stay outside."

A decurion's heart stirred, and he shouted back to the construction worker, asking.

"What exactly is happening here?"

"I don't know, but it's very similar to the fog that rose in Jinhe City before... I heard that breathing too much of that stuff makes you lose your mind, like Naguo. Anyway, it's nothing good."

Although the Weifu military base was also soaked in the fog, at least it had researchers from the Alliance and the Corporation.

With so many experts and scholars there, they could surely come up with some solutions.

Having said that, the construction worker covered his mouth and nose with his clothes and hurriedly caught up with the retreating team.

The decurion and the group of rat-folk villagers left behind all looked bewildered, not knowing what to do.

Jinhe City?

What place was that?

And Naguo...

Since coming to this wasteland, they had heard of too many things they'd never heard of before, and seen too many things that didn't exist in Bolo Province—things that seemed utterly bizarre to them.

In the past, most people wouldn't have taken it seriously, but they had been beaten up just half a month ago, so they still remembered the pain a little.

"I'll go report to Commander Makur." Without hesitation, the decurion threw down his farm tools and rushed toward the direction of the chiliarch Makur.

When he got there, Makur was sitting under a canopy, staring at the fog in the sky with an uncertain expression, muttering to himself.

"Why is there fog at this hour?"

It didn't look like the weather was about to change, did it?

Seeing his own officer running over, Markul sat up straight in his chair, put on a composed expression, cleared his throat, and asked him.

"What's the matter? You're in such a hurry."

Forgetting all dignity and etiquette, the decurion reported hastily.

"My lord! The Alliance Southern Construction Brigade just warned us that there's something unclean in this fog, and told us to withdraw to the military base immediately, better not stay outside."

Markul frowned at this and stood up from his chair.

"Retreat? Have those mutants attacked?"

The decurion quickly shook his head and said.

"No... but this sudden fog seems to be related to the Torch people."

Hearing it wasn't the mutants attacking, Markul rolled his eyes and sat back down in his chair.

"Pfft, I thought it was something serious. Just a fog, and look how scared you all are."

Seeing his superior's completely indifferent expression, the decurion was taken aback and grew anxious.

"But..."

Before he could finish, Markul waved his hand and made an impatient dismissive gesture with his fingers.

"I said, it's just a bit of fog, it's not like you can't see. Get back to work! Don't be thinking about slacking off all day."

The Alliance was up to no good; it was probably another one of their self-staged tricks.

He clearly remembered that the coalition's front line had pushed to the middle of Ten Peaks Mountain—how could the Torch possibly extend its reach here?

Seeing that his superior had completely ignored his words, the decurion broke out in a sweat from anxiety but dared not say anything more.

Catching sight of the overseer holding a whip with a menacing look, he could only steel himself and return to the field, picking up the farming tools he had thrown by the ridge.

Those overseers became executioners on the battlefield; they were never lenient with their own people, and their blows were heavy and indiscriminate. He didn't want to go home with a bruised face.

Just then, suddenly there was a thud, and someone collapsed in the field beside them.

The man was about thirty or forty years old, with a sallow complexion and skin stretched thin over bones—clearly a serf by birth.

Seeing this, the people nearby quickly dragged him out of the field and laid him flat on the ground.

The commotion soon caught the overseer's attention. A man carrying a whip quickly walked over and shouted at the gathered crowd.

"What are you all gathered there for!"

A mouse-man shouted tremblingly.

"Someone has fainted, my lord!"

The overseer let out a scoffing laugh.

"Fainted? I think he wants a taste of the whip! Get him up!"