Chapter Nine: Danger

On a dilapidated highway, a convoy struggled forward. The scorching sunlight baked the asphalt until it seemed to ooze oil, and many trees lining the road had long since withered. The convoy was immense—dozens of vehicles of all kinds, off-road trucks, heavy lorries, jeeps, sedans, and at the head, an armored vehicle gleaming amidst the jumble.

Yet despite their differences, each vehicle shared a singular feature: a coating of copper or silver, with only a rare few adorned in gold. The windows, meant to offer a view, were covered with dense grids of fine gold or copper wire. Visibility suffered, but it was a small price for survival.

The armored vehicle at the front was entirely gilded. Under the fierce midday sun of July, it shimmered like a carriage of gold.

At the wheel sat a burly middle-aged man, his face broad and intimidating, every line spelling out the word "ruthless." He drove shirtless, one hand gripping the steering wheel, the other holding a radio, speaking to those in the vehicles behind.

"Erzi, calculate how many more days until we reach Shelter 364?"

After a moment, a voice crackled through the radio: "Boss, the straight-line distance is only thirty kilometers, just ahead in that valley. But nearby is a nest of evil—if we want to avoid it, we need to take a long detour, more than two hundred kilometers. The roads are ruined, and we can only travel during the hottest hours. By my math, at least three days to get there."

"Why so much chatter? Just say it'll take three days!" The burly man tossed the radio aside and continued driving.

A meek voice came through the radio, now lying on the passenger seat: "Sorry, boss."

But the burly man paid no heed, pressing down harder on the accelerator.

This was a hardship for the trailing vehicles. The road was broken, riddled with potholes, tangled with brush and weeds, making progress difficult. At the previous pace—no more than thirty kilometers per hour—they could just manage, but now, suddenly, the entire convoy jolted and rattled.

Soon, voices gathered on the radio channel.

"Tell me, if we know where these shelters are, why broadcast their locations? Isn’t that just alerting them?"

"Exactly. We should sneak in quietly, no shooting, just slip inside, knock them out, and haul everyone and everything away."

"You don’t understand. Boss is shrewd—he must have his reasons."

"Right, only a ruthless and cunning man like Boss could lead us to survive."

Just then, an urgent shout came through the radio: "Boss, evil spirit detected ahead, estimated at Bronze Level Three!"

"Everyone, stop immediately!" Voices called out, and the entire convoy eased to a halt.

On the road ahead, within a wilted thicket, a long, gray-white creature was slowly writhing.

In the blistering midday sun, it resembled a venomous snake seeking shade. With the convoy stopped, all engines fell silent, and no one spoke. Only the wind and distant insect song lingered in the air.

Soon, from the gold-armored vehicle at the front, a tall figure leapt out—a man clad entirely in golden armor, towering at two meters. Compared to Fan Bei’s portrayal of a gold-armored man, this one was far more imposing. Wrapped head to toe, he braved the relentless sun, the temperature above forty degrees. One could imagine his discomfort, a reminder of why ancient wars were not fought in summer. Still, discomfort was no excuse; outside the vehicle, he would never bare his torso.

Striding forward, the gold-armored man approached the wilted thicket. The heavy tread startled the gray-white creature, which coiled like a snake and fixed its gaze upon the approaching figure.

From beneath the mask, a voice rang out: "You dare not attack? You know full well you’re no match for me, Wolf Wei!"

With that, he punched at the gray-white serpent. The creature dodged, aiming for the eyeholes of his mask. But his fist erupted with a burst of red light, catching the serpent squarely.

In an instant, the serpent vanished, leaving only a pebble-sized gray-white core behind.

The gold-armored man stooped to pick it up, his eyes shining with satisfaction. "A rare prize—this drops infrequently."

Holding the gray-white core, he turned back to the armored vehicle, calling out, "Start the engines, let’s move!"

"Boss, you’re mighty!" Cheers rose from the convoy.

The gold-armored man climbed back into his vehicle, stripping off his armor as sweat poured down his body. "Damn hot. Whichever idiot modified this junk armor didn’t even install air conditioning!"

He switched on the car’s air conditioner, cranking it to its lowest setting, and was instantly bathed in cool air. With the system on, a previously sealed conduit opened within the vehicle. Cooling required such a sacrifice, but even this conduit was lined with layers of gold mesh.

Yet a tiny, nearly invisible gray-white thread slipped through the conduit, bypassing the gold mesh, and seeped into the armored vehicle.

It crept up behind the driver’s seat. The burly man, still at the wheel, suddenly spun around and smashed his fist down.

A flash of red light, and the gray-white thread turned to ash—no core left behind this time.

"Trying to distract me? Naive! Compared to your Grandpa Wolf Wei, you’re green as grass!" The burly man grinned, then drove on, reciting aloud with a swagger: "The guises of beasts, how many tricks can they play? They only add to the laughter."

Apparently, everyone heard his recitation over the radio, and flattery soon followed.

"Boss is truly the boss. Ruthless men are dangerous, but a ruthless man with learning is terrifying. Boss is an educated savage!"

"Absolutely, absolutely."

...

Inside Shelter 364, Fan Bei was sweating in the kitchen. Patrols and meditation were no longer his main tasks; cooking was.

Da Bai was ravenous today—feeding every two hours, devouring food faster and in greater amounts than usual. He couldn’t finish a pot before needing the next. Fan Bei, helpless, kept boiling rice noodles, chopping and frying vegetables, and even the canned meat was nearly gone.

But perhaps this was a good sign. Eating more meant better nourishment; normally, a long period of supplements would be needed to restore vitality. Yet Da Bai was far from normal.

After consuming an amount equal to ten days’ worth of meals in one go, Da Bai finally quieted, burrowing into his dog bed in the living room, too full even to respond to calls.

Checking the system log, Fan Bei finally understood the cause: (Da Bai, under the guidance of an unknown entity, has entered seclusion—based on “Basic Dog Paw” and “Nameless Meditation,” attempting to comprehend higher skills.)

Fan Bei watched as Da Bai lay with his rear facing outward, belly rising and falling, hugging the wooden dog carving as he slept.

Fan Bei observed closely, and suddenly a haze blurred his vision. He seemed to see the black, carved eyes of the wooden dog rotate ever so slightly.

Was it an illusion? No. Clearly, the mysterious entity responsible for Da Bai’s transformation was indeed residing within the wooden carving.

Images of cursed dolls, sinister carvings, and other artifacts of the arcane flashed through Fan Bei’s mind. Whether the entity was benevolent or malevolent remained uncertain, but Fan Bei prepared himself for the worst. When Da Bai emerged from seclusion, all would finally be revealed.