Section Sixty: Fear

Perhaps this was the only chance.

After Wang Luo saw Zhou Suyan's figure vanish, he waited for quite a while before rising to his feet.

Panting hard, he pressed a hand over his heart, as though trying to force back the stabbing ache within it.

This time, he recovered after not very long.

"Much better than before," he thought with a trace of self-mockery as he stood.

The first bout of pain had come after he decided to march out on campaign.

It was an old problem of his. Since middle school, it had flared up from time to time. But after several trips to the hospital, nothing had ever been found.

When he mentioned it to his family, his father said he had the same condition too—it was hereditary. But it did not affect health or ordinary movement. No one in the family had died from it either; his grandfather was already ninety-two and still in robust health.

After learning all that, Wang Luo had not paid it much mind. Yet now that he had entered this realm and his body had become data, how could such a problem still exist?

And this stabbing pain had been accompanied by a sudden terror—a fear born from the depths of his being, with no clear origin.

Was it a hallucination brought on by illness? No. It might also have been his heart’s response to sensing danger.

Once he realized that, he repeatedly examined his own actions. Had he done something wrong? Was there anything that needed to be changed?

He thought over and over, but still found nothing.

The plan had already been confirmed again and again; there was nothing wrong with it.

It had been decided long ago: use a feint against the ferry crossing to draw the enemy's attention; win over enemy soldiers through propaganda and policy, then absorb them into his own ranks after defeating them; lure Han reinforcements into attacking, set an ambush when the chance arose, and annihilate them completely.

Then cross the river and crush the main Yellow Turban force, killing those who resisted or incorporating those who submitted.

Build a new team under the banner of his own ideals, and before leaving, entrust the follow-up work to reliable, capable people.

Previously, when carrying out even more dangerous plans, Wang Luo's heart had shown no problem. So why, this time, when the plan was less perilous than before, did he feel this way?

At present, their troops were strong and their horses well-fed; the soldiers had begun to embrace a shared idea, and their cohesion was steadily rising. Even if a few steps went wrong and they suffered a few defeats, there would still be room to recover, room to maneuver, room to begin again. But compared with the battles before, what exactly was different about this one?

Was it the enemy? That blood rain? The stronger Han army? Or...

The tendency of the scene itself?

If one supposed that the scene wished events to develop in certain directions, then it would be only natural for it to aid those who shared its purpose. And if someone drove matters toward a direction it did not desire, it would place obstacles in the way.

Was that really the case? Had luck abandoned him? If so, then he may have made a grave mistake.

When the blood rain appeared, he should have attacked the ferry camp at once. In that case, at least a retreat would have remained. But this time, it seemed he would have to fight to the death against an overwhelmingly powerful enemy.

Only after Zhou Suyan left did Wang Luo chew over this seemingly dangerous opportunity and begin to understand what the pain and suppression of earlier had been trying to tell him.

Death.

Failure, collapse, disintegration, death, death, death!

Though he could not make sense of it, he had been haunted by this feeling for days. When meeting with his subordinates, he tried his utmost to appear normal. But once they were gone, whether alone or in Zhou Suyan's company, he would often sit in silence, motionless.

But why did he feel this way? How strong was the enemy? Was there truly no answer? Could they simply crush him with industrial-age weapons?

No matter how powerful an ability was, there should still be a chance. No matter how formidable a person was, there would always be some corresponding weakness. Could something like invincibility truly exist?

Had he overlooked something?

Amid the intervals of pain, he seized every opening to think. Only when Zhou Yingxiong came to report on the matter did he suddenly catch a wisp of hope.

Trust, or suspicion?

Both trust and suspicion.

Trust in her resolve; doubt in her ability.

——

When Rank came to the entrance of the commander’s great camp, his heart was deeply uneasy.

An enemy. The person he was about to meet was the one who had killed his comrades. Rank kept reminding himself to be careful, not to let his hatred show.

Otherwise, he would not only fail to avenge them, but he would also endanger the comrades who remained.

"You’re here," said the guard at the entrance, leading Rank into the great camp. Wang Luo, who had been studying a map, looked up. "Sit down."

Rank sat on the chair by the entrance and, from behind, sized the other man up from the corner of his eye.

It was this man who had used his superior’s severed head to set a trap, luring Darber and the others in, then slaughtering them all and burning them to death. Though he pretended to be kind, with the slightest carelessness he might also kill Rank himself...

What if he meant to do exactly that?

In an instant, Rank’s back was slick with cold sweat. Garyville and the others had recently left, supposedly on a mission—but who knew whether they had been killed by this man? His army had already grown strong; teaching people to read was worth little, and killing Rank would cost him nothing...

"Captain Rank?" As if sensing his tension, Wang Luo turned around and greeted him.

"Yes, General." Rank lowered his head, trying to keep the panic out of his voice.

"How much do you know about the Wuzhou team?"

"Wu...zhou?"

"Yes." Wang Luo nodded, his expression kindly, his voice calm. "Our enemy, Wuzhou."

Then he picked up a sheet of paper.

"This is data someone else gave me. Wuzhou is a large team. When they entered this scene, their member count was listed as thirty-four, with a total number of forty-eight. It is impossible to determine whether there are other members who did not participate or whose identities were not disclosed."

"The team has taken part in many battlefield scenes and won every one. Their captain is Lin Feier, female, age unknown, estimated to be between twenty-two and thirty-five; height 1.74 meters, vital stats 93, 64, 95. In the space, she is known for her exceptional beauty and abundant emotions..."

"The Wuzhou team has changed its deputy captain one hundred and eighty-two times due to death in battle, resignation, and other reasons. However, most of the resigned deputy captains did not leave the team, but remained in it as ordinary members..."

"You see? What a mess." Wang Luo smiled. "Do you have anything more valuable?"

Then a sheet of paper was tossed in front of Rank.

"Interview mission: 1,000 special contribution points per hour. No lying, no concealing information. You may refuse to answer, but that will count as a mission failure. If the answers are satisfactory and the interview takes less than one hour, it will still be settled as one hour."

"Special contribution points: there is no need to accumulate ten thousand points; you can directly use universal points to purchase equivalent equipment and other items from the quartermaster."

If they wanted information about Wuzhou, then no amount would be too much. He very much wanted to refuse, but... special contribution points sounded excellent.

"I don't know... how many questions will there be?" Yes, Wuzhou was a nest of bastards too—let them bite each other to death! Having given himself that excuse, Rank chose to accept the task and asked this question.

"First, tell me everything you know about Wuzhou."

"Ah, understood."