Volume One, Chapter Seven: Redemption at All Costs

Montage, who had been watching the drama unfold from the sidelines, was utterly dumbfounded. The twist had come too abruptly. No one had expected that the seemingly most hot-tempered Yue Shan would hold back, while the usually composed Elder Jiang would be the one to act. His words and demeanor made it glaringly obvious that he was fiercely protective of his own.

It took a collective effort for the crowd to finally pull Elder Jiang away, giving Sun Dehong the chance to scramble to his feet. He was about to utter a few harsh words to save face, but when his eyes met Elder Jiang’s murderous glare, every word stuck in his throat.

“Go back and deliver a message to Zhang Ziliang: matters concerning Bureau 507 are not his to meddle in. If he crosses the line again, the Governor of Haicheng will be replaced! Now get out of here!”

After venting, Elder Jiang’s anger eased considerably, and he spoke in an icy tone.

Sun Dehong was a smiling schemer by nature; it was impossible for someone of his cunning to act so recklessly without prompting. Since he had done so, there could be only one person in Haicheng capable of instructing him: the parachuted-in Governor. Elder Jiang understood this perfectly, which is why he had not simply ended him then and there.

Both sides were probing each other’s limits: you send someone to pressure me, I’ll thrash your lackey. The message was clear—arrange whatever you like in Haicheng, but the Guardian Squad is off-limits! As long as Jiang Mingcheng drew breath, he would never allow those petty power struggles to infect Bureau 507.

Sun Dehong dared not utter another word. He hurried off, dragging his people with him.

Once they had gone, Elder Jiang’s demeanor shifted instantly to one of genial warmth as he turned to Montage.

“So, young man, have you thought it over?”

“Uh? Oh… I haven’t decided yet. After all, just now…”

Montage was momentarily at a loss. Elder Jiang’s change of face had been too swift—from murderous intent one moment to the kindly air of an immortal elder the next. Anyone would be stunned.

“No matter, no matter! Why don’t we at least register your abilities? You’ve never had formal training, so you’ve had to figure everything out for yourself. Why not give me a demonstration? I may not have many talents, but passing on some experience to the younger generation is certainly within my means.”

Elder Jiang stroked his beard as he spoke. He was not boasting—if anything, he was being modest.

Long before the era of dark chaos, various nations had established special divisions dedicated to researching supernatural forces. The most renowned among them were the Inquisition, the SCP Foundation, and, in Huaxia, Bureau 749. Unlike the first two, however, which had actual subjects of study and had already contained many monsters by the time of their founding, Huaxia had only records.

For over five thousand years, the culture had produced countless myths and legends, but no one had ever seen such things with their own eyes. The Classic of Mountains and Seas, which catalogued these beings, became an inside joke among netizens—a “World Ingredient Compendium.” As a result, Bureau 749 gradually faded from public view.

But as the world’s spiritual energy revived, individuals with extraordinary talents began to appear, each possessing abilities beyond the comprehension of ordinary people. Although weak at first, they were undeniably different. The nation’s highest leaders decided to gather these people and restart Bureau 749’s research, to help them harness and develop their abilities.

Elder Jiang was among them. Unfortunately, at the time, the nation’s fate was sealed by a restrictive force. No matter how they tried, they could barely surpass ordinary people. Against modern weaponry, they were powerless, and many abandoned the research.

Until…the dark chaos erupted.

That day, the moon turned an eerie shade of red, and the world outside witnessed the emergence of countless legendary creatures—trolls, vampires, werewolves, goblins, kappa… The world plunged into panic, countless lives were lost.

When it became apparent that no such monsters appeared in Huaxia, many nations called, begging for sanctuary. Out of humanitarian concern, Huaxia’s leaders dispatched ships and planes to bring in a flood of foreign refugees.

But blessings and misfortunes are intertwined. In the aftermath of the disaster, foreign superhumans began springing up like mushrooms after rain. When they saw their homelands in ruins while Huaxia remained peaceful, a mad ambition took root—they would seize this land as their ancestors had, plundering and enslaving as they saw fit.

They produced their so-called sacred texts, declaring that this was land bestowed upon them by the gods, and that those with superpowers were the chosen. And so, war began.

Superhumans launched wanton attacks on Huaxia’s military. Facing these unknown powers, the army suffered defeat after defeat. No tactic could withstand the supernatural; electronics failed, heavy weapons were useless, and battles were reduced to close-quarters gunfights. Even the most elite soldiers found themselves helpless before the superhumans.

Countless soldiers fell in pools of blood, and in a single night, it seemed as though the world had reverted to the era of the meat grinder. Yet no one retreated—this was their homeland. In the face of invaders, Huaxia’s soldiers had never known the meaning of retreat.

So what if they had superpowers? Eventually, they would tire. Even knowing that charging forward meant almost certain death, the soldiers pressed on, sacrificing their lives to wear down the enemy, to buy their comrades a sliver of hope.

After a month of brutal combat, Huaxia lost 250,000 of its finest sons. Most of the traitors were slain as well. But before the nation could catch its breath, news arrived: the superhumans who had not entered Huaxia had formed an alliance and were now surging toward its borders in numbers far greater than before.

The threat of annihilation loomed once more.

This time, the country’s leaders resolved to build five massive fortresses to shelter the surrounding populace, and then, regardless of the cost, to unleash weapons of mass destruction and fight these invaders to the last.

The military was given a single order: at all costs, hold out for three months to allow the construction of the fortresses.

The nation’s top engineers worked around the clock, producing blueprints in just three days. The so-called “Immortal Cult of Civil Engineering,” once a target of public jest, now staked everything on this effort. The great army of builders marched forth, and a task meant to be completed in three months was finished in less than one.

They knew that every day’s delay meant the loss of countless irreplaceable lives.

Railways, highways, and airports operated day and night, transporting civilians to safety. Factories, malls, and supermarkets distributed supplies that had been prepared long before, ensuring none would be left behind.

In the face of disaster, Huaxia displayed an unprecedented unity. The entire nation became a finely tuned machine, with each person contributing their strength in their own way.