Evening.

Bi Fang and Matthew sat quietly inside a parked off-road vehicle with the engine off, gazing at the distant tall black building.

“From now until tomorrow morning, we have about eight hours of operation time, enough for us to make a round trip to the shipyard,” Bi Fang said as he pulled out the car keys and finished the last piece of biscuit. “There’s no nightlife, and it’s easy to get sleepy when it’s dark, making it the perfect time to move. If it gets too late, we might drag into the next day, causing many unnecessary troubles. Once both sides collide, the resistance will increase exponentially.”

The mere thought of breaking into the Bandit Gangs’ headquarters at night to rescue the kidnapped survivors sent Matthew’s heart pounding wildly, as if he were on a roller coaster reaching its peak before a sudden plunge. Just the thought was enough to stimulate adrenaline secretion, numbing him from the scalp down to his toes.

Having disassembled and reassembled his pistol, Bi Fang asked, “I’m asking you one last time, are you sure you want to join me? You could actually stay outside to back me up, waiting until I bring out the people.”

“Absolutely!” Matthew was resolute.

Of course, he couldn’t just stay behind. Providing backup was merely self-deception. He couldn’t let Master Fang take the risk alone after suggesting it himself. Otherwise, how would he face his colleagues afterward?

Others only knew that Master Fang had stormed into the Bandit Gangs’ stronghold, blown up the headquarters, and rescued scores, if not hundreds, of innocent people… Oh, what was I doing? I don’t know, of course, I was standing three kilometers away, cheering for him.

He couldn’t afford to lose face like that.

Inside the live-streaming room, the viewer count had already surpassed three million. Except for a few special events, no single streamer had ever achieved such an exaggerated number of real-time viewers.

[Damn, Master Fang’s real viewer count makes those with inflated data look modest]

[+1, I remember the Emperor Master, the most badass outdoor streamer on Shark’s platform, once said his record was only two hundred thousand, and Old Fang just smashed it by more than tenfold.]

[Master Fang, forever our god!]

[Crush them!]

[You’re the chosen one, Pikachu Fang]

[Skull-flower has gifted a Spaceship*1 to the host—this is military supplies!]

[Flying Henan Man has gifted Big Bone*66 to the host—ammo money!]

Bi Fang tucked the pistol into his waistband, covered by a black trench coat. Beneath it was a bulletproof vest, and on his feet were tactical boots. Matthew was dressed in the same manner.

The pair returned to the steel plant in the afternoon, picked up an extra set of equipment, and Bi Fang had changed out of his previous jumpsuit coat. The black trench coat was found in a building.

Stepping out of the vehicle, they set off toward the distant destination.

“We should avoid clothes made of synthetic fibers like polyester or nylon, as they make noise when we move. It’s best to wear clothes made of natural fibers like cotton or wool, or leather…”

“It’s so dark.”

Matthew looked around; tonight, there was no moon, and there weren’t many stars either.

“It looks like it might rain,” Bi Fang remarked.

Bi Fang also felt the weather was a bit suffocating today. They had been busy making plans and scouting the terrain during the day and had forgotten to check the weather conditions.

But no problem, rain would be to their advantage. It would wash away their traces and muffle their sounds.

The two didn’t approach the shipyard but instead took the road toward another building, descended into the second underground level via the staircase.

Having scouted the location during the day, they moved with ease through the familiar route.

Bi Fang turned on his flashlight, and the beam illuminated the dusty tabletop, which although dimmed from long-term disuse, still glowed with a faint red shimmer.

Descending the metal ladder into the sewer, the flashlight revealed walls covered in moss, evoking a cinematic sense of déjà vu for the viewers, as if entering a scene from a movie.

[I’ve always wanted to say, Old Fang’s live-streaming picture quality is really amazing! How do you even shoot with such lossless quality?]

[Don’t ask, it’s all about investing big money.]

“[What kind of plugin did they install, something like image restoration, similar to a beauty filter? Technology is really amazing now, though this real-time kind must cost a fortune.]”

“[Beauty filter? So what does Old Fang really look like in reality? Is he actually that handsome?]”

“[Wait until the day after tomorrow when Master Fang is back and sleeping next to me, I’ll snap a photo for you guys (Dog’s head)]”

The structure of the sewer was very ancient, with a semicircular cross-section, a channel for water in the middle, and narrow paths on either side designed for maintenance workers to run down to the sewers for repairs and dredging.

Dark green aquatic plants hung down from the walls and ceiling, blending with the pitch-black moss that grew from the corners of the walls.

Matthew, following closely behind Bi Fang, wasn’t paying attention and was unexpectedly brushed across the face by these plants, the cold sensation like a venomous snake slithering over his face.

“Ugh!”

Matthew tried to endure it, but couldn’t help running to one side to retch. However, his feet slipped on the moss underneath, and he fell directly towards the water channel.

Splash!

Just in the nick of time, Matthew only felt a powerful force pulling him by the back of his neck, and when he opened his eyes, his face was just half a meter from the water, and the stench assailed his nostrils.

Bi Fang’s flashlight swept towards the place where the splash had come from, but it was too late; all he saw was a slender tail, before ripples spread and the shadow disappeared into the water channel.

“Be careful, the ground is covered with moss and it’s very slippery.”

Bi Fang pulled Matthew up, now somewhat doubting whether this guy would actually be of any help to him, given his poor performance.

“What was that thing?” Matthew asked with lingering fear, “A salamander?”

He could only hope that the owner of that slender tail was something relatively “cute” like a salamander.

“Snake, probably. Salamanders, although adaptable, lack scales and their skin is vulnerable to bacterial attacks. They require cleaner water than what is found in these industrial sewers. Even standing here I can smell the stench. Household sewage is a possibility, but don’t get too close to the water channel. A bite, even from a non-venomous snake, would not be good in this situation. Here, you even have to be careful of non-venomous snakes.”

The appearance of the snake startled everyone, particularly as they looked around at the pitch-black surroundings. The viewers were even more anxious that a venomous snake might suddenly leap out and bite them on the leg.

“[I’m already hiding under my blanket]”

“[It has a sense of adventure]”

“[Feels like a horror movie]”

“Due to long periods of neglect, a stable ecosystem has formed here: rats, snakes, cockroaches, they could all survive here. As invaders, this environment is not friendly to us,” Bi Fang said, leading the way with his flashlight, “The sewer ecosystems of each city are different, related to rainfall, temperature, and the pH level of groundwater. The most important thing to avoid here is injury. It’s easier to get infected here than outdoors, especially with parasites. Once there’s an open wound, they can enter through the bloodstream and lay eggs in your body.”

Rats, cockroaches, snakes.

Just hearing about these creatures made the Shuiyou’s scalps tingle, wishing they could give wings to Master Fang to fly out of this hellish place.

It was too terrifying. Even if they weren’t experiencing it firsthand, just watching the live stream felt like someone was breathing down their necks. But looking back, the living room was empty, nothing there.

Bi Fang glanced at the map in his hand: “Another kilometer and we’ll cross the street to directly underneath the shipyard. The shipyard is by the shore, and the sewer exit is there too, so there are water turbines set up. If we pass the turbines and walk a little further, we’ll reach the warehouse. With the entire city out of power, at least we don’t have to worry about being sliced into pieces by the turbines.”

Bi Fang tried to lighten the mood with a joke, but it was to no avail; Matthew felt the sewers become even colder. It was as if they were walking through the intestines of a behemoth—cold, wet, slippery, and revolting.

As they rounded a bend, Bi Fang also saw a few empty tin cans and some rotten magazines.

Matthew stepped on a small pile of pale yellow rubbery material, which looked like deflated balloons or rubber gloves without the palm section.

The live stream quickly blurred the image with a mosaic, making Matthew feel as sick as if he had saved up two weeks’ worth of phlegm in a steamer to stew.

It was incomprehensible why there would be so many rubber gloves accumulated here. Just as Matthew was about to vomit, Bi Fang suddenly stopped in his tracks and shone the light upward.

A gigantic water turbine appeared before everyone.

It was extremely close.

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