Famine 239: By Luck

　　Nidhogg took Shi He away to rest.

　　As they stepped out of the portal connecting Hephaestus Castle to the Farm, they happened to see Alice standing by the gate. The proud, unruly dragon hesitated, silent for a moment, then bowed his head and executed a solemn bow.

　　Alice rested her hands behind her back, taking a moment to respond before she replied,

　　“It’s alright.” She smiled. “Rest well!”

　　The two curled up together in a Farm residence, heads pressed close, breath mingling. Their clasped hands were streaked with dried blood.

　　Wounds were healing. Time was short. The [Preliminary Selection] would last for more than ten days yet, and then the descent of the God itself would begin, and the situation would become even less able to do without them.

　　It wasn’t only Nidhogg and Shi He. Anderson, Wang Jianguo… all those who had first stood up in the hour of disaster were now close to burning out, each one being nudged toward rest in turn.

　　They were the chosen, marked by the gods, favored by the Main God; by right, they could have coasted through thirty days of the [Preliminary Selection] with ease. Yet they had driven themselves to the limit, striving to drag forward such an unwieldy, fragile species. Their blood spilled from the iron rings at their shoulders, forming winding rivers.

　　How hopelessly overmatched they seemed.

　　But it was precisely because of their efforts that the human race, when confronted by the sudden arrival of the end, managed to snatch so many weak flames of hope from the jaws of oblivion.

　　In the frigid long night, Snow Egret lifted his head and looked up at the boundless sky.

　　—Many had died, but more were still alive.

　　Now, it was the mortals’ turn to fight.

　　Back in the Farm’s armored divisions, they regrouped according to Bian Xu’s pre-established formations and reunited with old comrades. Then, following Si Zhiyan’s strategic plan, they set out anew to bring back even more survivors.

　　On the pitch-black map, with the Farm at its center, the players’ torchlights appeared like mycelium, radiating out in interwoven layers in all directions.

　　On the front lines, every unit saw continuous reinforcement and restructuring. As soon as a settlement was liberated, every player able to fight was integrated into the squad before pushing on to the next site.

　　The tireless work of Bian Xu, Aiko, and the others had not been in vain. Days of military drills had honed the Farm’s armed collective to its peak. Ordinary outpost players, once they joined the main force, underwent a qualitative transformation. Victims who, one second prior, waited in fear for rescue, sometimes weeping tears of joy at their deliverance, would, in the next heartbeat, become rescuers themselves.

　　Countless people stepped from their watchtowers, following the trail of blood and the raised torches to join the journey home.

　　Shen Qing’s wounds were grave, so he was sent to rest in the hospital. Snow Egret, after brief treatment, got back to his feet and joined an assault team as a rapid scout.

　　“It’s alright.” The little cat pressed a soft kiss to his lover’s brow, his rough little tongue gently licking, “This time, I’ll do the protecting.”

　　“Wait for me at the Farm.”

　　At the Farm, the lights of Ideal Town and the metropolis also burned all through the night.

　　Rong Bei’s legs were irreparably damaged—he could no longer walk the battlefield. He spent his life’s wealth running and advocating from the rear, leading other crippled old soldiers in the rear lines, raising funds from the home front for those going forth to bring people back.

　　The great merchants, flush with profit, respectfully called him “Teacher.” Countless logistical players flocked to his donation stalls, lining up with their red boxes. Many were inspired by his example, forming grassroots charities—weapon smiths, government workers, miners…

　　Rong Bei raised tremendous sums, and countless rare items, relinquishing even his warehouse in a freely-given donation to the Farm’s armed division.

　　The numbers made Hezi, who rushed to handle the intake, wide-eyed with astonishment.

　　“Take it!” Rong Bei insisted. “I still have shops; money can always be earned again.”

　　“Take what you need—I’ll work for more, and replenish later.”

　　The supplies Rong Bei raised passed through storage and were shipped out by the crate, cast across the entire battlefield of the Hunger Game.

　　Far away in the snowy mountains, someone searching in a donated warehouse uncovered a treasured, high-grade concealment collar, and fastened it around Snow Egret’s neck.

　　Thus, a small, weak, docile, snow-white long-haired cat began leaping out at the very front of the formation.

　　With a premium item’s blessing, a ragdoll cat’s small frame, high agility, and camouflage, plus excellent night vision, Snow Egret made the perfect scout.

　　He combed the snowfields for survivors, leading the team again and again toward signs of human presence.

　　The little cat’s pawprints left a string of plum blossom marks in the snow of the endless night.

　　In the frozen desolation beyond the posts, in the wastelands of white, countless players who had fought bitterly to survive, at the limits of endurance, raised their heads to see, high on the snowy plain, a clean white ragdoll cat. Its eyes glimmered like sapphires.

　　Meow! A breath of wind.

　　Behind him was hope itself.

　　…………
　　……

　　In the Bone Ferry Guard camp, the cooks’ stoves bubbled and boiled, filling the air with the aroma of rich winter melon and pork rib soup. Nearby, snowy white steamed buns and cabbage-and-pork dumplings swelled on their trays.

　　People worked together, eating in organized shifts, with priority for the wounded; the line ebbed and flowed in perfect order.

　　Unlike the last battle around the Eye, this time they had enough hands. The Bone Ferry guards, no longer under strict orders from Nie Du, drew on years of camaraderie and trust—combined with modern military training—to trigger a ferocious explosion of fighting spirit and capability.

　　Nie Du had just risked life and limb rescuing an entire settlement from the shadows. Half his head was bloodied, but even lightly injured, he would not leave the line, instead staying with the team to recover.

　　A raven perched on his shoulder, scythe at his feet, Nie Du sat by the fire, staring into his bowl of steaming, fragrant broth.

　　Sha Tong had also had a long, exhausting day and now battled his way through a heaping meat bun.

　　He had somehow found a bowl of crispy roasted baby potatoes—each plump, round, generously sauced, savory and aromatic, their skins perfectly crisp, their insides fluffy and delicate. Bite after bite, a rib for a potato; if he choked from eating too fast, he washed it down with fresh soup, then a mouthful of winter melon to cleanse the palate. How delicious!

　　The scent of the roasted potatoes wafted across half the camp. It took Sha Tong a while before he noticed Nie Du’s odd mood. Hastily swallowing a mouthful of soup, he asked, “What’s wrong, Big Bro Nie—not to your taste?”

　　Nie Du’s face was hidden in his hood, so no one could read his expression. After a long pause, he simply said, “All the nutrient solution is gone.”

　　Sha Tong, chewing his bun, blinked. “…Oh.”

　　Nie Du lifted his gaze. “The only food left in the Hunger Game is a bit of roasted potato. The [Preliminary Selection] will last for thirty days.”

　　“If not for the Farm… what would we be doing right now?”

　　Having grown used to the Farm, Sha Tong had never really considered this question. But hearing it put so starkly, his mind whirred and a cold sweat broke out down his spine.

　　Would you have thought of it?

　　Who better than those of the Bone Ferry to understand what happens to a group when food runs out en masse?

　　What’s more, among the Hunger Game’s players, the most common reserve food had always been nutrient solution. Only about thirty percent had stashed potatoes—mostly the weaker, those unable to complete the nutrient tasks.

　　Years of efforts, wiped out in an instant. And outside, the world was still so dangerous, shadows everywhere.

　　If it were you, would you risk the deadly shadows and keep completing missions, or—

　　—Look to that weak, thrifty, potato-hoarding neighbor of yours?

　　Sha Tong’s eyes reddened, and he blurted, “Those bastards, are they insane?! How could they be so cruel?!”

　　Nie Du said nothing.

　　Nie Du was upright to a fault, almost a saint to the point of pathology—he would die before stealing another’s rations. But he was well aware his squad could never be made up entirely of saints.

　　Sha Tong, after all these years, knew himself. When strength permitted, out of devotion to Captain Nie, he really, really tried to be a good person. But faced with a real life-or-death dilemma, he knew what his choice would be.

　　Coincidentally, just half an hour ago, Sha Tong had rescued an elderly couple from the post’s cellar.

　　They were the stall owners here, long survivors in the cellar, full of thrift, kindness—a pair who reminded Sha Tong of his own late parents. Tearfully clinging to his hand, they’d pressed a sack of potatoes into it, repeatedly thanking him for saving their lives.

　　They gave him roasted potatoes, their home specialty, as a thank-you—salty, fragrant, and delicious.

　　If not for the Farm, the hand that reached to steady them today could have been the one to take their lives. Those old, tear-filled eyes of gratitude would have been drowned in blood and terror, vanishing in a wave of death.

　　Sha Tong could only promise—the most he could do would be to end things quickly.

　　If that much was true for the ‘good guys’ of the Bone Ferry, what of the majority outside…

　　Sha Tong was quiet for a long time, then slowly whispered, “Thank god for the Farm!”

　　His words quavered, full of fear and gratitude.

　　Thank god for the Farm!

　　The same thought echoed in countless places.

　　Nie Du lowered his head, reached up and patted the raven’s wing. He straightened his cloak and drank deeply from the bowl. The hot savory soup, mingling with the scent of winter melon, slid down his throat, slowly warming him to his core.

　　He passed no comment on that long silence. He only said, “Eat.”

　　“When you’re done, the castle’s portal should be here. We’ll go home.”

　　They were in the Third Sector—the road to the Farm was not a matter of distance.

　　Buzz!

　　At the appointed hour, the deep blue portal unfurled.

　　A vast, dreamlike castle appeared before all.

　　Within the perfectly tempered void, lawns swayed in the warm breeze.

　　Yu Yao, dressed in tails and pressing his earpiece, stood before the castle, smiling: “Captain Nie, welcome. Head to your quarters—they’re in sector C.”

　　A butler emerged to guide the Bone Ferry team.

　　Leading them in, Nie Du was noticeably less exhausted than the other chosen, but after these many days, even the Bone Ferry Guards needed a respite.
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　　“Finally, a chance to rest!”
　　“Thank you all!”

　　Warriors and rescued civilians alike offered smiles as they filed inside.

　　When all had entered, the castle’s entrance was shut behind them. The portal left to bring back others.

　　The old couple Sha Tong saved had roasted a sack of fragrant potatoes, hoping to leave them for the castle’s butler—but the butler declined with a gentle smile—he had no time to eat.

　　All cross-sector transit was routed through the castle, with all logistics run by Yu Yao. At such a crucial moment, Yu Yao proved exceptional at systematizing and dispatching. He coordinated all sides, scheduled portal locations, handled emergencies, and kept the castle running—so busy he barely ate, but not once did he make a mistake.

　　Even Nie Du had to marvel at the rare gift of such multitasking ability.

　　By now, the entire Hephaestus Castle was filled with players.

　　The evacuation had gone smoothly; most of the players outside had already made it in. People crowded together, brimming with hope, chatting about recent battles, about what they wanted to eat back home, lining up in good order to pass through the pale yellow portal to the Farm.

　　Back to the Farm! Home at last!

　　To hell with the icy wilderness—back home to eat together by the fire!

　　Teams had to be transferred to safety, but there was only one portal to the Farm. Everyone went to the castle first, then would leave, step by step. This caused crowds, but the castle’s extra-dimensional space, expanded by Alice’s crystals, never felt cramped.

　　After freezing half the day in wind and rain, Nie Du was just starting to warm up. He ached everywhere, but shuffled forward with his team.

　　Ahead, the portal came into view. The guiding butler gestured with a smile, his body already halfway through.

　　Suddenly, the grass trembled violently beneath their feet.

　　Empty!
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　　Nie Du’s face changed instantly. He snatched at the butler ahead—

　　“Not good! Watch out!!”