Famine 86: Golden Strings

—The [Weeder] of the farm could no longer operate.

This meant the city wall had become the farm’s final line of defense.
If the wall was breached, the farm would still face total destruction—there would be no difference.

“We must end this quickly. We don’t know how much longer we can hold out.”
Si Mianyan spoke with decisive authority.
“Keep monitoring the situation below at all times. If things escalate to the point where the [Weeder] has to be used, don’t worry about us—disappear immediately.”

“Understood,” Bian Xu replied.

High above the city, the gigantic Eye hovered under a blood-red sky.

[Fate-Binding Eye Stakes] emerged everywhere, their trajectories intertwining into a vast spider’s web, all converging upon Si Mianyan.

Humm! Hum-hum-humm!

Exploding in the air, countless radiant clusters of light shattered, instantly dissolving most of the [Fate-Binding Eye Stakes].

A sharp, girlish voice screamed: [Too bright… fireflies… tear it off… tear it to shreds… the death that awaits…]

The good news was that the [Eye] seemed shackled by certain rules. Even in its fury, the methods it used were limited to this.

What was restricting it?
The Supreme God? Why?

No matter the reasons, Si Mianyan was thoroughly aware—

This was their only window of opportunity!

Si Mianyan rolled through the air, narrowly dodging a Charging Stake.

When the [Eye] suffered damage, it would reflexively close its eyelid to protect the pupil. Within that pupil, a shimmering liquid pooled—this was the [Eye]’s weakness.
If he could land a heavy blow upon the pupil, though it might not kill the Eye outright, it would surely inflict grievous harm.

Thus, there were only two paths—

Destroy its eyelid completely, or… use something to restrain it!

“Alright, I understand now,”

With agile motion amidst the chaos, Bian Xu loosened his limbs and flashed a grin at Si Mianyan.
Even at such a dire moment, Bian Xu’s voice remained lively and bright.

With a sweeping gesture, Bian Xu flicked his wrists, circling his hands in the air.
From his fingertips, golden threads as fluid as tides appeared, layered and uneven, conjured from nothing. They spread outward, winding around his fingers and weaving into a spiderweb in the air.

Hum-humm.
The golden filaments quivered.

Behind him, the little witch’s puppet flew at high speed, screeched to an abrupt halt, and stared at Bian Xu in shock.

Bian Xu gave a light laugh, tilting his head and winking back:
“Thank you, my lady. I’ll borrow your puppet’s strings for a moment.”

So these were the witch’s threads? He could borrow such eerie abilities?

Even as that thought flickered through Si Mianyan’s mind, the golden threads in Bian Xu’s hands were already in motion!

Slash!

In an instant, a rain of golden needles burst forth, stabbing fiercely into the upper and lower eyelids!

A fierce yank!

[——!]

The [Eye] broke out in a shrill, cacophonous scream.

“Now!”

Si Mianyan shouted low, raising the gun that fired candy-coated banknotes, aiming unhesitatingly at the trembling pupil and pulling the trigger!

Rat-a-tat-tat-tat-tat!!

Points -10,000, points -10,000, points -10,000…

Scarlet bills erupted in a continuous stream from Si Mianyan’s barrel, surging straight into the giant eye’s crystalline lens, exploding in a radiant burst!

Blood burst forth in streams, mingled with clear ocular fluid, splattering everywhere.

The [Eye] trembled desperately, striving to close its eyelid, but Bian Xu swung hard, the golden threads in his hands flaring ever brighter as he locked them tight.

Yet, the [Eye] was simply too massive—even with all possible enhancements focused on attack, even as Si Mianyan’s gun roared without pause, it would still take time to inflict serious enough damage.

Suddenly, Bian Xu’s expression changed. The golden threads in his hands flickered sharply, dimming markedly.

Hum!

The [Eye] seized the opportunity, thrashing violently as it broke free from every thread no longer enveloped in golden light. Its lower eyelid snapped shut and regained freedom.
Bian Xu, straining with all his might, barely managed to restrain the remaining golden strings and maintain control over the upper eyelid, narrowly averting catastrophe.

He could do nothing more against the lower eyelid. The lid rose, shielding the pupil, forcing Si Mianyan to halt his attack.
For now, the [Eye] could not escape the golden web, but Si Mianyan could no longer land further blows. Both sides were locked in a stalemate, each exerting their utmost strength.

Instantly, Si Mianyan realized the root of the problem—

Bian Xu pressed a hand to his temple, his lips twisting into a grimace, sweat streaming down his face:

“Sir, something has happened at the farm.”

…………
……

The human-faced ghost moths clustered in dark swarms, their wings blotting out the sky as they drew ever nearer. @All the best stories, only at Jinjiang Literature City

So hot— unbearably hot.

Lin Qiushui clung to a crenellation on the wall, her face deathly pale, her vision darkening in waves. Her thoughts dulled; her mind drifted in and out of consciousness. Her whole body felt as if it had been fished from water, her forearms shaking uncontrollably as she clutched her own wrist and gasped for breath.

As a soldier, she knew her body’s state all too well: heat cramps.

In high temperatures, during prolonged exertion, this was just one manifestation—a dangerous symptom of acute heatstroke. She needed to leave; otherwise, her body would betray her, perhaps even fatally.

…

But if she left, what would happen to the others?
What about Yun Zhong, what about Shengsheng? Those young men and women who had followed her, trusted her, studied and fought at her side… what would become of them?

The hum in her ears battered at her mind. In her earpiece, Wang seemed to be shouting something desperately, but at this point, Lin Qiushui could scarcely understand a word.

Her eyes blazing red, she gripped the earpiece with trembling fingers, dragging the microphone to her parched lips.

Her voice was hoarse, rough as gravel scraping together. With a brutal rasp, syllable by syllable, she forced the words from her throat:
“Group one, reload—group two, prepare—three, two, one, open fire!!!”

She was not the only one.

But even so—it was not enough.

Most players were already groggy. The [Slapdash Gatling Gun] was a true heavy weapon, with brutal recoil. Even physically enhanced players had to fight with every ounce of strength just to control it. Many were knocked backward by the kick, tumbling along the wall.

With the enemy at the gates, their desperate barrage shot down the final wave of surging moths.

But now, a dense carpet of human-faced moths, seething and restless, used the heat to finally breach the blockade and swarm atop the city wall.

The multitude of faces—old, young, male, female—drew closer and closer.

For some reason, the more Lin Qiushui looked, the more familiar those faces became.

And then, suddenly, she saw it clearly.

—It was her own face.

Countless copies of her own face flitted among the swarm.

Hum!
Suddenly, Lin Qiushui’s vision went black.

All along the city wall, countless players were experiencing the same vision, the same fate, almost as if in perfect unison.

Some managed to activate mental defense tools; many more did not.
The weakness brought by the heat allowed the moths to invade, and a thick black cloud of insects nearly swallowed the entire rampart.

She was a moth…

She was a moth, fluttering freely in the sky.

She wanted to take her little moths with her…

Ah, no, she shouldn’t—she had no little moths, for after laying eggs, grown moths devour their young. So all the baby moths must die…

Humm!

Suddenly, a wave of golden light, rippling like sound, swept across the battlefield.
A pulse of golden resonance, neither strong nor feeble, reverberated out from the farm, striking Lin Qiushui’s head with a heavy jolt!

Although the [Weeder] had not been fully activated, Bian Xu had poured every ounce of strength into unleashing a residual shockwave.

No—no! What was she thinking? In a flash, Lin Qiushui snapped back to herself, shuddering violently.

She forced her shaking hands into her pocket, pulling out a block of milk candy she had brought as a snack, stuffing it into her mouth to dispel the lingering delirium.

Fwip-fwip-fwip-fwip—

When Lin Qiushui came to her senses, she was already surrounded by throngs of black moths—a writhing, churning mass, each with a distorted human face.

“Ha… ha ha…”

Someone was laughing. Lin Qiushui recognized the voice—it was a blunt, forthright comrade surnamed Hu.
Before the disaster, old Hu had been a butcher. After the forest opened, he quickly returned to his trade. Whenever players brought in wild boar or deer, a few points would get old Hu to do the work. He wielded a blade as wide as a door, butchering livestock with clean, practiced skill. Lin Qiushui, fond of hunting, had always gotten along well with him.

What was he doing?

As she turned to look—

“Ha ha… I’m a moth, I’m… a moth…”

At the base of the watchtower, Hu Yongchang was already bathed in blood. His face held a smile of rapturous contentment, though much of the flesh had been scraped from his cheeks, exposing red muscle and sinew.

Strips of his own bloody flesh still clung beneath his fingernails,
like flakes of moth dust.

For a moment, Lin Qiushui’s eyes turned scarlet with rage.

“Old Hu! What are you doing?!”

She scrambled down the watchtower, battering through knots of insects, hurling herself at Hu Yongchang, pinning down his hands with all her strength.

But—it was so hot, unbearably hot.

Hu Yongchang, always strong as an ox, still had the advantage; Lin Qiushui, half-dehydrated and weak, could barely restrain him. Gritting her teeth, she threw her full weight forward, tackling him to the ground and at last pinning his wrists beneath her own.

“Ha ha, I’m a moth…”
Hu Yongchang, oblivious, kept laughing—clawing again and again at his own face, tearing at his flesh…

Fwip-fwip-fwip-fwip—
The swarm churned thick as ever.

That pulse of golden energy had jolted some awake—including Lin Qiushui—so the situation, dire as it was, hadn’t yet reached the worst.

Still, the effect was far weaker than the Weeder’s true power. It could neither kill the human-faced moths nor save everyone.
Chaos reigned atop the wall.

“Ha ha ha… I’m a moth… a moth… don’t steal my food…”
“Pull yourself together, please! I’m a mage—I can’t hold you, you can’t eat!”
“My wings are wrinkled, I must smooth them out…”
“Gaozhai, you’re insane! That’s your own knee you’re tearing at!”

Someone slashed desperately with a blade: “This will never work—damn it, there are too many moths to kill by hand!”

But what good was it to restrain them, even if she could?

Lin Qiushui trembled all over.

For some reason, she felt a strange certainty—@All the best stories, only at Jinjiang Literature City

That golden shockwave just now must have been a sign of help from the farm owner.

If the farm owner’s battlefield was already this perilous, he had surely paid a price for sending aid!

They could not rely on such interventions! The situation here had to change—immediately!

But… how?

In that moment, Lin Qiushui recognized the truth—there was no way! Simply restraining a handful of those lost to psychic control would never be enough!
The root problem was the moths themselves, massed around them. They had to restart the gun emplacements and inflict real damage upon the swarm!

But how? All the farm’s suitable players were already here, and most of her comrades had already succumbed!