Famine 82: Facing It Head On
by Cristae[Mistworld – Day 15 / Midnight 00:00 / Farm / Current Farm Completion: 51%]
[Time until the Eye of the Supreme God’s incursion: 0 days]
Clang—clang—
The farm’s eligible players filled the ramparts; everything was in readiness.
Dawn of the fifteenth day arrived, blanketed by a tense and solemn air.
The ethereal chime resonated through the world; the thick fog gradually dissolved, and the sky slowly turned a vivid blood red.
“Hee…”
From somewhere—no one knew where—a giggle suddenly drifted forth.
It was a clear, impish sound, like… the voice of a little girl.
“Heehee… heeheehee… heeheeheeheeheehee…”
Up in the sky, the enormous eye’s pupil slid, at last fixing upon the farm below.
The discomfort of being pinned by that gaze instantly crashed down on everyone’s shoulders.
And then… bit by bit, it descended.
It descended!
The colossal eyeball fell from the heavens like a plummeting star, swelling at breakneck speed, and in an instant, crashed down above the city walls in that blood-red sky!
[It] blotted out the sun, replacing the entire firmament.
It was too close, far too close—at such proximity, even a single strand within that crimson pupil was larger than any person. The naked malice revealed therein was vivid and poisonous; it was like staring into the abyss itself.
Buzz!
A wave of formless pressure, like a sonic shock, swept over the entire field in an instant.
The Eye’s vengeance had officially arrived.
Atop the wall, row upon row of players stood, mere ants beneath a titan. Every skull rang like a struck bell, as a darkness swept over minds—a field of wheat stalks felled in layers, collapsing under the weight.
“Ah… ahhhh!!!”
Piercing, desperate screams burst through the night.
A mercenary from the Chuncao group broke down, collapsing to the ground.
Liang Qingshuang tumbled forward, scrambling to support her comrade.
That mercenary clutched his head, face pale as death, sweat pouring off him like rain. “No…no, it’s not possible, we can’t fight Him! How could we ever stand against such a thing?”
“Who could survive an attack from an entity like that?”
Liang Qingshuang tried to speak, only to find her voice shaking: “Don’t… don’t say things like that…”
The mercenary seemed on the verge of losing it. “Never mind anything else—who’s still standing? Who can remain standing in front of something like that?!”
Liang Qingshuang’s skull ached, her hands bracing her against the stones, unable to utter another word.
Suddenly, someone shouted, “Look! Up ahead!!”
Look now!
Propping up her companion, Liang Qingshuang slowly raised her head.
Ahead of the ramparts, in front of the scarlet, towering eye, floated a solitary black figure.
Farm master Si Zhiyan stood before the Eye, his spine straight, his head lifted fearlessly, meeting the monstrous gaze, the hems of his coat flickering in the wind.
Before that titanic eye, the farm master—no taller than an ordinary man—was as insignificant as an ant.
Yet not for a moment did his figure waver; his bearing was calm and assured, as if engaged in a grand game of strategy, not conceding the slightest advantage.
“…”
Liang Qingshuang and the mercenaries beside her were all momentarily struck dumb. Upon the walls, beneath countless watching eyes, the mass of kneeling players looked up—unable to turn away—staring at the farm master’s slender, unyielding silhouette.
“The farm master… the farm master is still standing.”
Liang Qingshuang snapped back to herself: “The farm master isn’t afraid! Do you see that? The farm master isn’t afraid!”
“Get up! The Eye’s attack is just this opening wave—get up!”
“We’re battle-hardened, we’ve all seen psychic onslaughts before! Put on your mental defense gear! On your feet!!”
“Do you want to go back to that wandering, starving life, never knowing where you’ll sleep?”
“Stand up! Fight for the farm’s survival!”
“We are the farm master’s followers—we must not shame him!”
Off in the distance, the farm master’s upright figure was like a stabilizing pillar, a presence firmly securing every heart.
Liang Qingshuang’s mercenary, gritting his teeth, somehow found the strength to lean on her and rise!
A second, then a third—
Countless players helped one another, forcing themselves up.
Sweat still beaded on brows, legs still trembling, but one by one they straightened their spines, standing atop the battlements behind their farm master.
Above—
[Dingdong! Dispelling [Death Stare] for 5 seconds, consuming 50 stacks of [Witch’s Blessing]. Stacks remaining: 105.]
[Dingdong! Dispelling [Death Stare] for 5 seconds, consuming 50 stacks of [Witch’s Blessing]. Remaining: 55.]
[Dingdong! Dispelling [Death Stare] for 5 seconds, consuming 50 stacks of [Witch’s Blessing]. Remaining: 5.]
…
Si Zhiyan clenched his jaw, arms clasped behind him, meeting the Eye’s stare.
In the darkness, Si Zhiyan clearly read the Eye’s intent:
—It wanted to witness his annihilation with its own gaze.
But Si Zhiyan showed not a hint of faltering—he bore up under the pressure, unmoving.
Those black eyes met the stare—
Their answer was cold and utterly impenetrable.
I am not afraid of you.
Si Zhiyan knew that if he let slip even the least doubt, the courage his people had laboriously gathered would be lost at once.
Five seconds. Ten. Fifteen…
Finally, just before the last of the Witch’s Blessing was spent, the Eye’s pupil shifted minutely, averting its gaze.
…Exhale.
Si Zhiyan’s nerves slackened all at once, only then noticing his shirt was soaked with cold sweat, the night wind chilling him through.
He bowed his head slightly, quietly, exhaling a long, slow breath.
Composing himself, Si Zhiyan immediately dropped back down to the ramparts.
“Farm master!” Liang Qingshuang hurried up, voice quivering with excitement.
Si Zhiyan had yet to respond when, suddenly, a low rumbling rolled out.
From the far edge of the woods, a faint pall of dust began to rise.
It seemed—like an advancing army—something was moving forward with that rumbling crescendo.
“What is that?” Liang Qingshuang’s face tightened, eyes narrowed, straining to see—
He hadn’t made it out, but Si Zhiyan’s bloodless lips opened, voice level and grim: “Open fire.”
Tak-tak-tak-tak-tak!!!
At the order, the city walls erupted—countless paper machine guns, their interlaced streams of fire, instantly tore apart the night!
[B-Rank Facility—Bamboozle Master’s Machine Cannon]!
Whatever abomination approached, Si Zhiyan maintained only one resolve—
Anything blasted to a pulp could no longer be a danger.
Within the guns’ range, that was truth itself!
The smoke and dust exploded into chaos—bodies tumbling, hooves and limbs flying as the barrage brought all momentum to a halt.
Whinnying—
Within the dust, blood spattered and old gore flowed amid shrill cries. Countless pale forms burst forth, exploding in a wet spray.
It was only then everyone saw—those clouds of churned dirt concealed a galloping horde of horses.
Each horse was the color of a ghostly shadow, every one carrying, strapped onto its back, a bundle over a meter tall.
When they fell, those bundles burst open—showers of writhing, milky white maggots sprayed forth, crawling everywhere, then shredded by the next withering volley.
Within Si Zhiyan’s vision, labels appeared: [Cursed—Maggot Burden Mount], [Cursed—Bone-Fused Maggot].
They were obviously carriers of deadly curses, and the crawling maggots could scale sheer walls. Should they detonate at the city wall, the consequences would be catastrophic.
Fortunately, they had the [Bamboozle Master’s Machine Cannon].
Tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak-tak!!
“HOLY SHIT!! This is fucking amazing!!” Gao Zhai roared with excitement, gripping the cannon for dear life. Though now a master of bodily enhancement, he was still exhausting his strength to control the immense recoil.
Everywhere the guns pointed—horse corpses torn to shreds!
Fear and the scent of blood, surging adrenaline—the thrill was overwhelming.
“I never realized until tonight—all those war shows where they kept charging after being hit by machineguns? Bullshit!”
Butcher Hu Yongchang stood on the rampart, eyes red, deliriously shouting,
“With this kind of firepower, anything hit would be nothing but meat paste!”
600 rounds per minute, a 2,333-round high-capacity drum, just two minutes per cooldown…
With nothing to break their illusion, the [Bamboozle Master’s Machine Cannons] provided near-limitless suppressive fire!
Thanks to the assistance from Bone Ferry, Sha Tong and his team had spent many days on the farm, working with Lin Qiushui to teach everyone how to build fortifications and wage battle.
A true military academy graduate, he had every gun positioned to overlap and crossfire, arranged into two alternating teams for seamless reloads and cooldown—ensuring an unbroken curtain of lead. Each cannon had two loaders and two gunners, so that in case of casualties, firing could continue. When to fire, when to hold back and lure the enemy—all was planned.
Lin Qiushui took command atop the walls, responsible for real-time adjustments.
It was clear—they were doing splendidly.
Though Sha Tong was not present, the gunline he had arranged functioned flawlessly, keeping the host of maggot mounts and their cargo at bay, well outside the cannon’s kilometer-long range.
Every veteran here was a rare talent. Si Zhiyan, watching that spiderweb of fire, could not help but sigh.
If not for Sha Tong’s bond with Nie Du, he’d have poached the guard captain long ago.
If Sha Tong could see inside Si Zhiyan’s head, he’d surely laugh aloud.
Truth was, Sha Tong was even more desperate, all but dancing with impatience to recruit Lin Qiushui back to run the guards with him. Lin Qiushui only smiled and gently declined again and again—he wanted his squadmates, his “kids,” to live in the best environment possible.
The Bone Ferry had been good to them, very good—but the farm was a place worth fighting for!
In the darkness, Lin Qiushui, megaphone in hand, stood atop the watchtower, his flag waving. Wherever he pointed, bodies and gore sprayed; not a single maggot mount’s remains broke through his wall of fire.
Soon, the last wave of mounts fell beneath the barrage.
The dust settled.
The first assault, thrilling but safe, had been stopped outside the farm’s bounds.
On the ramparts, the players’ spirits soared as if injected with new life.
“That’s it?!”
“It’s over! They’re all dead!”
“Ha… ha… I can’t believe we actually killed so many curse monsters! Incredible!”
“We actually did it! We won! Sister Liang, did you see?! I actually managed it!”
Everyone cheered, some even jumping from their posts to run for a hug with Liang Qingshuang.
At that moment, the farm master’s forever-cool, ever-even voice rang out like cool water over feverish heads—
“All hands, return to position. Battle readiness. Anyone abandoning their post will be severely dealt with.”
“This is not over, do not lower your guard.”
The players snapped to attention, hastening back to man the guns.
Click…
Click-click… click-click…
From afar, a strange, sticky, countless-layered sound drifted over.
It was a mighty, synchronized rhythm, each beat overlapping the last.
Like many identical sounds resounding together, in perfect step, steady and measured—
As if it were the marching feet of an army.
“What is that, some kind of multi-legged monster?” someone exclaimed.
“Doesn’t look it. Feels more like… like a whole pack of weirdos keeping time together?”
Players were baffled: “It’s too coordinated—monsters marching in formation?”
Yet at the edge of vision, in the depths of the forest, nothing new appeared.
The endless blackthorn forest remained utterly still.
But… something felt off—
Wasn’t the open ground outside the farm’s fence… subtly narrower than before?
No.
Something was wrong!
Si Zhiyan, hovering in mid-air, pupils contracting.
That sound—it wasn’t made by monsters, but by…
The entire forest.
The entire blackthorn forest was advancing toward them!