Chapter 101: No Response
“What’s going on?”
Ji Cheng was stunned.
Does “be cautious of coincidences” really mean that?
Why should one be cautious?
Is it the usual meaning of coincidence, or is it some kind of code?
If it’s the ordinary sense of the word...
Does that mean every coincidence deserves attention?
No, that’s unlikely. There are far too many everyday events that can be chalked up to coincidence—there’s no way to be cautious about all of them.
So only certain coincidences with specific factors warrant caution?
How am I supposed to tell the difference?
Does the accidental discovery of the hidden river count?
With this thought, Ji Cheng carefully reviewed every event that had happened since his arrival in his mind.
This review startled him greatly.
He had attended the mining examination and had “just so happened” to encounter Lu Shangbai inexplicably producing a defensive matrix for him to break.
This allowed him to unlock the answer screen’s decoding function and then “just so happened” to connect to the Gaia network...
Luo Rao and Su Yi went out to eat and “just so happened” to get him thrown into prison, then “just so happened” to send him to the Black Island organization’s laboratory, where he obtained the Tyrant serum...
He participated in the ability user selection and “just so happened” to be in the cohort that ran into trouble...
There were likely many other coincidences he hadn’t even realized yet...
What exactly caused all this?
He had originally thought that coming to Baishan Star was like hitting the jackpot, and that most things were going smoothly, but now the situation was getting more and more complicated.
He even felt as though he was entangled in layer upon layer of invisible threads.
Damn!
The noise from earlier had already woken Luo Rao. Seeing Ji Cheng deep in thought, she quietly sat beside him, observing Shana and An Chan with curiosity.
She knew of their existence but this was the first time she had seen them in person.
As her gaze drifted downward and caught sight of a slightly surprising curve, she suddenly laughed out loud: “Ah Cheng has finally grown up!”
“Ah, what?” Ji Cheng’s thoughts were interrupted by her laughter, and he looked up in confusion.
“Hehe, it’s nothing.” Luo Rao refused to answer directly, her expression a mixture of kindness, relief, and satisfaction as she looked at him.
“If you won’t say, forget it. But I have something important to ask you now.”
“What is it? So serious.”
Ji Cheng composed himself and asked, “Why did you want to kill Su Yi back then?”
To understand these coincidences, the best way was naturally to ask those involved.
“I don’t know either...” Luo Rao shook her head. “Ah Cheng, you know ever since that incident, I’ve often been in a daze. It was like that then too.”
The incident she referred to was the day she somehow obtained over one million Baishan credits to buy gene samples for the original owner.
According to Ji Cheng’s memories, she had left for school as usual that day, but when she came home, her ID card showed that money, yet no matter how he asked, she couldn’t recall the details of that day.
“Not even a thread of memory?”
“I really can’t remember anything.” Luo Rao shook her head again, her expression pained.
“Alright.”
Ji Cheng knew she wouldn’t lie and gave up on pressing further.
Sigh.
It seemed this straightforward approach wouldn’t yield answers.
He would have to go to the RX-23 mining area beneath the Salt River channel. If he could find the upstream link, everything should become clear.
That was his plan.
...
Three base vehicles moved silently through the Spiral Horn Desert, stirring up rolling heat waves that whipped into howling winds and swirling sandstorms, wreaking havoc everywhere.
The sky had darkened somewhat, like a piece of deep indigo velvet, with layers of lead-gray smoke clouds pressing down.
Inside the cockpit, the atmosphere was tense, busy, yet orderly; time ticked by as tasks were completed one by one.
Each base vehicle was manned by a driver and a co-driver, both injected with gene samples possessing highly active cells—a high-risk, high-pay job.
“In a few minutes, we’ll establish communication.” The co-driver pointed ahead.
A black streak appeared on the front windshield and gradually expanded as the vehicle advanced, revealing a granite stone forest stretching over forty kilometers.
High radiation severely hampered communications, and Nangang could not establish relay stations in the wilderness, so once the vehicles left the city’s vicinity, contact was lost.
This granite stone forest was a landmark; reaching it meant they could connect with Nangang’s tower.
The driver pressed the radio communication button and picked up the walkie-talkie:
“This is West Wind No. 2 base vehicle, calling Nangang New City tower. We are about to return.”
No response.
“This is West Wind No. 2, calling Nangang New City tower! West Wind No. 2 calling Nangang New City tower! West Wind No. 2 to tower, over!”
Still no answer.
“Calling city defense command center!”
No answer.
“Calling Nangang New City Council building!”
“Calling emergency contact station!”
No response.
...
“With the base vehicle’s omnidirectional antenna, under current radiation levels, communication delay to Nangang at this location is four seconds. Including interference from smoke grenades and the city’s protective shield, delay should not exceed eight seconds.”
Even under the worst conditions, they should have received a response within eight seconds.
But the walkie-talkie’s indicator lit up without a sound.
The driver was sweating profusely.
The sealed anti-radiation suit was utterly non-breathable; sweat was nearly drowning him.
Following emergency protocols, he painstakingly checked the communication equipment, even pulling out and verifying every word of the “Base Vehicle Operation Manual” he had memorized thoroughly.
“It shouldn’t be the equipment; Nangang is simply not responding.” He concluded.
“Yeah...” The co-driver replied briefly, leaving him puzzled.
Then a trembling finger pointed forward.
“The city’s protective shield... it’s been turned off.”
...
“Why has the base vehicle stopped again?”
Ji Cheng had just dozed off with his eyes half-closed when he noticed the vehicle had halted.
When he emerged from the life cabin with Luo Rao, seven or eight ability users were already standing on the sandy ground outside, all with shocked expressions, whispering among themselves.
From the chatter, they learned that when the base vehicle attempted to contact Nangang New City earlier, no response came, and they had discovered the entire city’s protective shield had been shut down.
Zhou Ze’s face was as dark as still water. He silently approached and handed Ji Cheng a piece of glass.
“See for yourself.”
The city’s protective shield was invisible to the naked eye and could only be observed through glass.
Ji Cheng raised the glass to his eyes, looking toward the city. Sure enough, the dome-shaped, turtle-shell patterned shield was gone.
The city’s protective shield had originally done much to prevent the invasion of mutated animals.
“Brother Zhou, what’s going on?” Ji Cheng asked.
“It can’t be that there isn’t enough energy crystal ore. With Nangang’s current reserves, even if they only consume and don’t replenish, the shield could last for more than half a year.”
“So it was turned off deliberately?”
“I don’t know.” Zhou Ze shook his head gravely.
Soon all eighteen people disembarked, including Ji Cheng and three others from the council, the Zhang sisters, Centipede and two others, Lu Shangbai and an ability user named Qiu Ding from Zhou Ze’s team survivors, plus Luo Rao and six drivers.
All their gazes fixed on a floating holographic map.
“We must head back immediately,” Zhou Ze said, pointing to the map. “Mutated animals crave two things above all: flesh and metal. Nangang New City has plenty of both. Without the protective shield, the mutated beasts from the surrounding wilderness might already be attacking the city!”