“I can’t contact the Command right now. Every road north has been cut.”

Shen Cong didn’t believe a word Zhao Zilong or Lu Hang had said. In the post-apocalyptic world, trusting people too easily had one outcome, and it was never good.

“True — the Black Blood Group and Lost Paradise worked together to excavate a hundred-meter break across every northbound route.” Lu Hang shook his head, then added with genuine curiosity: “But how did you get here in the first place?”

Shen Cong’s eyebrow went up slightly.

Why are they asking where I came from?

The answer assembled itself immediately. They don’t actually believe I’m Eastern Theater Command. This is a probe. Follow my route back, find where I originated. Great Vajra is too conspicuous — anyone can see one person didn’t build this alone. So they want to trace the source. Follow the thread back to New Hefei. Find the settlement. Absorb it. All those disease-changed individuals become their raw material supply.

One moment. All of that.

He answered smoothly: “Chuzhou — through Laihe County — Mingguang City — Xuyi County.”

A plausible northerly route, routed through areas he could describe convincingly.

Lu Hang clearly knew the geography. He nodded. “You came from the Chuzhou direction. That makes sense — with a vehicle that size, the ratmen aren’t as dangerous. We can’t go that way ourselves. Get surrounded by ratmen and things go very badly very quickly.”

Zhao Zilong said: “We haven’t asked your name.”

“Chen Kun. Rank — colonel.”

Half true. He did hold a colonel’s rank, awarded by New Hefei. Not by the Eastern Theater Command, but she didn’t need to know that.

“Colonel Chen Kun.” Zhao Zilong looked at him for a moment — as if running through her memory of Command personnel and not finding a match — then continued. “We’ve explained our situation. Now I want to know: does the Command intend to eliminate the death-eaters outright, or is there another plan?”

“I want to know how much combat capability the death-eaters actually have. How many of those weapons that damaged my vehicle exist.”

He wasn’t answering her question. His priority was threat assessment.

“Those are called Fireworks,” Lu Hang said. “Six hundred and sixty-eight crystals per shot — more expensive than C1 itself. Developed a while back using materials from a specific evolved beast. The creature is extinct now. Exact count is unknown, but there are definitely fewer than twenty currently in circulation.”

He continued: “There’s also something called the Beech — a larger version of the Fireworks. Seven or eight of those exist. Two have been used. After the faction split, the organizations each took one back to guard their bases in Yizheng.”

Fireworks. Beech.

The death-eaters’ most powerful weapons. Both worked on the same principle — rotating the tube mixed chemical agents at the base, generating intense propulsive force that launched toxic core material. The specific composition of the toxic payload wasn’t publicly known, but the reaction was violent: instantaneous high-intensity Activity corrosion combined with concussive force.

Great Vajra couldn’t stop it.

The Fireworks were bad enough. The Beech was almost certainly capable of a fatal strike against the vehicle. Until the Lv1 era was crossed, Great Vajra needed to stay outside Beech range entirely.

He thought for a moment, then answered: “I can’t promise you anything right now. But I’ll carry your information back to the Command.”

“Colonel Chen,” Zhao Zilong said, “I have one more request. I’d like to go to the Command in person. Make the case directly.”

“You want to ride in my vehicle.” His tone turned harder to read — and his certainty that these people had an agenda increased. “I can’t give you my complete trust. Not unless—”

“Unless what?”

“Unless you deal with the people following me first. Do that and I’ll believe you’ve genuinely crossed over to the death-eaters’ opposing side.”

He wanted the pursuit neutralized. And he wanted to watch what happened when these two groups met for real.

Great Vajra had never taken this much damage from a single engagement before the overhaul. Something cold was sitting in his chest about it. He was not the kind of person who left threats unresolved. Weaken them now, contain their growth, return to finish the job when strong enough — every death-eater organization that had struck his vehicle needed to be eliminated. The only question was when and how.

Zhao Zilong didn’t argue. She turned back to her group and raised her voice.

“Everyone. The moment of breaking free from C1 is here. The choice is yours — let C1 drag you further down, or reclaim what it means to be human.”

“Boss, just say the word. We decided this when we joined you.”

“Can’t afford C1 anymore anyway — dead either way. Let’s go.”

“I never had a choice before. Now I want to be a decent person again. Ha.”

One by one, all of them.

“I see your answer. I respect it.” Zhao Zilong’s tall, thin frame stood straight under the sharkskin cloak.

She turned back to Shen Cong. “Colonel Chen — you saw their decision. They’ll die with some dignity at least.” A pause. “I should be honest: we’re not their match. The Black Blood Group, Lost Paradise, and New Hope Laboratory combined have deployed at least a hundred and twenty death-eaters. We have thirty, including Home of the Fearless.”

Lu Hang added: “Our deaths don’t matter. What matters is you getting back to the Command. If you die here, none of this means anything.”

Shen Cong’s eyes moved. “Numbers aren’t what matters. My vehicle — without the Fireworks, they can’t hurt it. What I need from you is simple: kill as many of the Fireworks carriers as possible. Whatever’s left after that, I’ll handle.”

If they truly went at the death-eaters and took casualties doing it — added to the losses from the earlier exchange — he could believe they weren’t performing. Nobody committed their people this genuinely to a lie.

And if they could hold the Fireworks carriers long enough, he could operate freely. Eliminate the threat. Clear the debt.

“You’re certain?” Zhao Zilong asked, her voice level.

“Ask yourself why I came out here alone.”

She nodded slowly. “Alright. None of our lives are worth much at this point — every day we’re still breathing is an insult to the people we let die. The sooner the better.” She looked at him directly. “You break out alone if it turns. Don’t wait for us.”

“Agreed.”

Zhao Zilong shook out her sharkskin cloak, swung onto the sidecar trike, and drove straight at the death-eater convoy without any further hesitation.

The death-eaters had formed up into a single large column.

Shen Cong followed at a slow, deliberate pace, watching.

The emotion he expected — satisfaction at setting two enemies against each other — wasn’t there. In its place, something more complicated. Zhao Zilong’s directness had gotten under his assumptions. If she had a scheme, she wouldn’t be moving like this. You didn’t send thirty people against a hundred and twenty as part of a deception. You didn’t say “die with dignity” to your own people as a performance.

He rested his hand on the Tyrant Broadsword.

If you die in this, I’ll carry your request to the Command. Whether the Command gives up on this area or not — I’ll come back. I’ll dismantle every death-eater organization operating here. I won’t let them grow and spread.

Now — first, collect what I’m owed.

Death-eaters. Let me put an arrow through every one of you.

(End of Chapter 232)