Famine 84: It’s Angry
by Cristae—It’s angry.
Could the [Eye], the servant of the Principal God, even feel anger?
Many players, almost reflexively, felt their legs go weak; yet by sheer luck or will, they managed to grab the rampart and stopped themselves from collapsing to their knees.
Buzz!!
The [Eye]’s twisted pupil constricted instantly, like an abyss drawing inward.
Before the enormous eyeball, tongues of fire shot forth like meteors, blanketing the sky, plummeting to earth!
It was making a personal move.
In an instant, a rain of fire streaked down, trailing dazzling light across the blood-red sky.
Lethally beautiful.
“Shit! It’s falling!!”
“It’s so hot… so hot!”
“Is the sky raining shooting stars? No—it’s a firestorm!”
The players screamed desperately. Some scrambled for shelter, some clung to their gear and braced for impact.
Lin Qiushui shouted, “Don’t leave your posts! No one off the guns! Hold your line!”
Many crew quickly returned, steadying themselves behind the gun barrels.
In the face of this firestorm, every human response seemed feeble and powerless.
Sizzle—
Before the fire rain even touched down, a player, skin glowing red, clutched his burning arm, and shrieked hoarsely—
“Help, my arm—it’s burned!”
“So hot!! The air itself is burning!!”
This was no mere assault, not even a monstrous anomaly—this was a natural disaster.
Lin Qiushui called out loudly, “Milk and coffee! Drink your supplies!”
Before the battle began, the ramparts had been stocked with debuff-clearing drinks. Every combatant carried extra with them. The players rushed forward, shoving supplies into their mouths as fast as they could.
But under this punishing heat, a bizarre phenomenon occurred.
The milk and coffee within their bottles remained cool—but the outside of each container, exposed to the searing environment, rapidly grew scalding hot.
Shatter! Shatter! Shatter!
The sound of splintering glass exploded everywhere.
Before the battle, no one had expected the [Eye] would have such methods. For efficiency’s sake, all stored supplies were contained in either glass bottles from the main store or plastic bottles—in that instant, they either shattered or melted.
No matter how hard the players scrambled, they barely salvaged anything. In a flash, coffee and milk spilled everywhere.
The wreckage glistened with blood from burns and wide, dulled eyes.
…
Maybe this was what it meant, the wrath of a God.
How could you resist the heavens themselves?
Many players gazed upward, hopeless despair in their eyes.
—
Amid the uproar, Si Zhiyan kicked off, his shadow-flicker doubling as he flashed up into the sky.
The tails of his black coat swept up, surging straight into the incoming meteor storm.
He would not let the fire fall on his farm!
Buzz!
At the instant he was about to collide with the blazing meteors, Si Zhiyan’s entire form exploded—his body vanished, replaced by a cloud of water vapor.
Then—unfurled wide against the scarlet sky.
Whoosh!
All around this vapor, a flame leaped up—almost identical, yet emanating an entirely different presence—a fiery dome blazed into existence above the farm!
A vault of living fire blossomed overhead, sheltering the entire farm.
Boom! Boom boom!
Meteoric fire slammed down, bursting against the dome. As each bolt of flame met the shield above, thundering shockwaves rolled—but ultimately, none penetrated; all were deflected.
At the heart of the blazing vault, a silver cufflink, inlaid with an icy blue gem, flickered amid the mist.
It was Si Zhiyan’s sapphire cufflink’s ability.
[Ring of Sacred Flame]
Generates a circle of searing fire one meter around you.
Burns anything that enters with temperatures of nearly a thousand degrees and a 5-meter knockback effect.
The first time he saw this ability, Si Zhiyan had thought—
The effect is to “generate a ring of fiery defense one meter around me.”
That’s straightforward enough—but who determined what “I” truly was?
Suppose “I” was a spreading cloud of mist?
Mist is particulate, suspended in the air—each droplet is a part of “me”—
So then, what form would the Sacred Flame take?
—Precisely this!
A surging, continuous shield—a vault of fire encapsulating everything.
Augmented further by the Living Spring’s 15% defense bonus, plus the cufflink’s own 25%—layer upon layer, he had forcibly kept the firestorm from touching the farm.
Where the mystical fire fell, all evil retreated!
“Farm Master!” Someone was practically weeping.
“The farm master saved us!”
Lin Qiushui, too, raised his head and drew a deep breath of scorching air. “To face off with the heavens themselves…”
“Farm master…”
No one could answer him.
Within the farm, Si Zhiyan’s eyes burned red. Still in water-mist form, he stared upward at the colossal Eye, not daring to look away for an instant.
It was a contest of wills.
Within the Eye’s pupil, something… it recited a phrase, one word at a time…
The voice was sharp and tiny, drowned among the thunder of meteors striking the fire-wall—only a few syllables could be caught.
[…I…will…become…the next…]
What was the [Eye] saying? Si Zhiyan strained to catch it.
…
Meanwhile, commotion erupted atop the wall.
The defensive [Ring of Sacred Flame] had one serious limitation:
—It was too hot.
The [Eye]’s flaming meteors, already scorching, now combined with the Sacred Ring’s near-thousand-degree heat, roasting the entire farm as if in an oven.
Lin Qiushui craned his neck and downed every drop in his canteen, but still sweated profusely as if pulled from water.
He, at least, was better off. After joining the farm, he’d saved enough to upgrade his body, and still his face was beet-red.
Some of the weaker eligible players already had blisters swelling on their arms and cheeks. Crying out, they clustered together under protective gear.
Thankfully, as eligible players, even the poorest among them still had some protective items.
After the initial confusion, everyone found what method they could and protected themselves; the overall casualties were limited.
But… what about those who weren’t eligible players?
Lin Qiushui’s face went pale—he spun for the other side of the wall, gazing into the heart of the farm. Switching channels, he pressed his headset and called out frantically:
“Wang Wen? Yun Zhong? Shengsheng? …Wang Wen! Answer me, are you all alright?!”
After a few seconds of static, Wang Wen’s voice returned: “Don’t worry, we’re alright… It’s hot here in the town, but just hot. Are you okay?”
Apparently, because there were no walls to trap the heat, the temperature inside the farm, though high, remained reasonable. About 39°C—within the realm of a hot summer. As long as everyone stayed in the shade and hydrated, there would be no major casualties.
The support staff—safe, for now.
Lin Qiushui said, “Good, that’s good. Find Li Cui’e and the others, keep Shengsheng by your side, organize everyone, and whatever happens, do not come out. Understand?”
There was a burst of noise; then Li Cui’e took the headset. She was already the de facto town chief, her voice as calm and decisive as ever: “No need to ask. As soon as the fire rain started, I moved everyone into secure basements.”
Reliable as ever—even now, Lin Qiushui sighed with relief and steadied himself on the wall, only then noticing his legs had gone to jelly.
Wang Wen added, “Are the walls already burning over there?”
“How is it? Should you pull back? Gods fighting is no place for us—just stay alive.”
Lin Qiushui swiped sweat from his brow, hesitated—“You…”
Suddenly his expression changed, eyes wide with alarm: “No—!!”
At the horizon, a dense, writhing shadow boiled out from the forest.
When it rains, it pours—new enemies arrived this very moment!
A swarm… of moths?
They were moths, each the size of a human face. Tens of thousands, even millions, clustered together, swirling through the sky in utter chaos. Their wings beat with frantic speed as they darted toward the farm.
Painted on each wing—a screaming, twisted face of a child.
[Face-Stealer Ghost Moth]
Thick clouds of powder swirled in their wake, billowing like ghostly fog.
These could not be allowed to reach the farm overhead!
The din made Lin Qiushui switch back to the combat channel. He yelled into his headset until the sound broke through:
“Hold your positions! Gun crews, ready—crossfire on the moths! First team! …cough, cough…”
By the end, his throat was raw, the words trailing away, as merely speaking became an ordeal in this oppressive heat.
He managed to catch his breath and continued:
“…Cough… First team, FIRE!!”
Tak-tak-tak-tak-tak!!
Jets of flame crossed and swept, mowing down a swath of ghost moths at once.
But as the guns fired, the web of fire grew patchier and weaker, until at the last it was so scattered it couldn’t mount real suppression.
Something was wrong!
Why was their firepower lagging so badly?
Very soon, Lin Qiushui realized the problem.
—Heatstroke.
In this extreme heat, water ran out quickly.
Protective gear could ward off damage, but couldn’t change the basic state of the body.
Mass heatstroke—dizziness, nausea, weakness—could erase combat ability.
Heat sickness, confusion… if the heat didn’t break, things would only get worse.
Lin Qiushui clung to the wall; darkness blurred his vision, his body growing heavier by the second.
No matter how he struggled, there was no pushing further.
He issued command after command, but ever fewer replied.
He could only watch as the ghost moths swarmed steadily nearer.
…
…
At the vault of the sky, Si Zhiyan was all but overwhelmed.
The meteor shower never ceased—he had to protect the farm, so at least half his avatars needed to remain in water mist form.
That left only half of himself to face the [Eye], flickering shapes barely holding steady in the bloody sky.
He drew out the [Million-Dollar Sugar-Coated Shell] and fired at the [Eye].
Ten thousand points spent—bundles of money whistled away, striking at the pupil.
The [Eye] simply shut its lid, deflecting the shot, unbothered.
Well then. Si Zhiyan sighed; it felt like fighting a hurricane with a leaf.
Yet even this was valuable—the [Eye] would blink to defend itself, proving its pupil was sensitive, susceptible to real harm… as long as it stayed open.
So then, how could he keep the [Eye] open?
He hadn’t found a solution before the [Eye] began to counterattack. With a leisurely, mocking air, it condensed a splinter of wood in the air.
At a speed the eye couldn’t track, the stake shot toward Si Zhiyan.
Clang!
A resounding crash.
Si Zhiyan’s pale avatar staggered back two steps.
At some point, a fine, transparent thread had snapped across in front of him, coldly gleaming. The near-irresistible wooden spear struck squarely on the filament, sliced in two.
Behind him, the little shrine maiden puppet appeared, bowing slightly to Si Zhiyan.
“Thank you,” Si Zhiyan laughed, cold sweat dripping from his brow, “You saved me.”
It all happened in an instant.
The [Eye]’s face twisted in fury, the veins in its pupil swelling, its gaze fixed firmly on the tiny puppet.
[How dare you?]
[How dare you how dare you how dare you how dare you how dare you how dare you how dare you…]
The voice was sharp as knives, jabbing straight into Si Zhiyan’s eardrums—screams, whispers, tangled madness, all shattering the very air.
“Hiss!” Si Zhiyan staggered back, hands clapped to his ears.
If this hadn’t been an avatar, but his true body, that single burst would have been enough to shatter his skull completely.
—What was wrong with it?
From the start, the [Eye]’s interest had always been inexplicably intense.
Before and now alike… which of his actions had provoked it so?
Why was it so enraged?
As he pondered, another wooden spear shot forth!
Whip!
Si Zhiyan darted, diving and dodging in midair, never pausing, fighting for survival amid the net of wooden spikes, thought spinning.
Even with the little shrine maiden’s help slicing the spikes, it was unbelievably hard.
But he moved quickly.
Attack after attack missed—the few that did come close, Si Zhiyan dodged and weaved, toggling speed and defense buffs. He was like an insect, always a hair out of reach—if the [Eye] swatted, it struck only air, and the bug flitted on, maddening its foe.
[…I…will…become…the next…]
[…I…will not…allow…to become…the next…]
The [Eye] must have been driven utterly mad—deep within its pupil, the once-indistinct little girl’s voice grew clearer and clearer,
Until at last, a single, clear, piercing phrase rang out—
[I—WILL—NOT—ALLOW—YOU—TO—BECOME—THE—NEXT—HIGH—PRIEST.]