Chapter Sixty-Eight: The Miners’ Revelry

Ji Cheng turned his head and saw that several more base vehicles had arrived.

“Able users from the other city-states are here,” he said without looking back.

The transparent cone lights cast patches of brightness, and from Ji Cheng’s vantage point, the newcomers appeared in shifting shadows, half-lit and half-shrouded.

“I smell alcohol,” Luo Rao said, wrinkling her nose.

“As a rule, before high-risk missions like this, there’s always a bout of heavy drinking to let off steam.”

Zhang Jing’e moved her lips slightly, her voice softer than Zhang Lingfei’s. “With their constitutions, even if they get drunk, they sober up quickly.”

“It’s tradition,” Zhang Lingfei added, her wavy hair falling askew to cover her face, hiding her expression.

Tradition? Ji Cheng took another bite of dried tofu, waves of emotion stirring within him.

He’d long since noticed that almost every able user had a side unknown to others.

They appeared aloof, but it was clear each of them bore immense pressure. Once you became one of them, responsibility pressed down like a gathering storm—impossible to evade, even when you saw the Damocles’ sword hanging overhead:

Mutated beasts, radioactive contamination, mental pollution, and toxins.

Every trip into the mines was a gamble.

Such was the life of the able user—death in the mines could come at any moment. Only these bouts of wild revelry could numb taut nerves.

“I have to say, I think every miner here has a bit of a mental problem. Even I feel a little off now.”

No matter who it was, every able user Ji Cheng had met had something odd about them.

Even the seemingly steady Zhou Ze showed a kind of obsessive fervor at times—especially when it came to New Southport.

Zhang Lingfei looked at the growing crowd and sneered, “On this godforsaken planet, not having a psychological problem would be the real problem.”

Ji Cheng turned slightly, eyeing Zhang Lingfei with a serious face, though inside he was quite amused. She still had soup at the corner of her mouth; though she looked lazy and casual, everything about her was tightly wound.

“So you have psychological problems too?”

“I just want to lie down and do nothing,” Zhang Lingfei replied, her face slack.

“Hey, why are you sitting here? I’ve been looking all over for you.”

Lu Shangbai appeared from somewhere, clutching a bottle and slurring his words. “Brother Ji, come drink with me. Once the gate opens, it’s straight into the hive. Whether we survive is pure luck. So tonight, let’s eat and drink our fill, die with a full belly if we must.”

Great, the most unhinged one has arrived.

“Brother Lu, I think I have a few years left to live,” Ji Cheng said, grabbing Luo Rao’s chopsticks and tapping them frantically. He was still rather superstitious about things like this.

You can be the one to die from overeating, not me.

After a few cups and some banter, more familiar faces appeared—Li Ying, who’d passed the selection with him, Lei Junming with his missing arm, and Liang Wu from the Southport side.

This time, their reunion was less confrontational, tinged more with wistfulness. Clearly, a few days as able users had changed them all.

Especially Lei Junming; in just this short time, he seemed a different person—his sharpness gone, now silent and reserved. Then again, maybe he’d just had too much to drink.

As the crowd swelled, new faces from other city-states joined the gathering. Ji Cheng, still a newcomer, soon found himself surrounded, people whispering as they tried to figure out who he was.

Lu Shangbai, always eager to show off, seized the lively moment. Faced with a barrage of questions from the able users, he stood tall, boasting with grand gestures about how Ji Cheng had slain the “Cripple.”

The “Cripple,” a half-bodied salamander, was only of the lowest classification, but its regenerative powers and brute strength made it notoriously hard to kill—a mini-boss of sorts, well-known among able users and excellent fodder for stories.

He perched on the table, tapping his bottle as he spoke.

“Forget the idle chatter—let me tell you of my brother Ji’s peerless might!”

At these words, the crowd fell silent, then erupted in applause.

“Bravo!”

“That’s the spirit! How many storytellers have you eaten?”

“Keep going!”

Lu Shangbai’s voice boomed with excitement:

“Brother Ji—strong as can be, single-minded in his search for ore.

He spots a rotten stream and says, ‘There’s bound to be a mine in there.’

Down the black ravine he goes, his eyes sharp and keen.

Whoa! What a massive cave mouth, sand swirling in the wind.

And who lives inside? The Crippled Monster, the local tyrant for ten miles around.

This beast—its gaping maw as wide as a millstone, eyes bulging like water tanks.

A busted wheel hangs from its waist, stinking worse than a latrine.

The crowd panics at the sight, scrambling aside.

Only my brother Ji—unhurried, undaunted.

Blade left, gun right, cares not for tigers or wolves.

He sweeps upward, hand slamming down at the center.

Guess what? One punch—skin split, guts spilled!”

Lu Shangbai, who knew nothing of the real events, grew more outrageous with every word. Even Ji Cheng himself was left speechless.

“Come on, at least make it believable. Punching through a half-bodied salamander? I couldn’t do that if I tried.”

He wished he could disappear on the spot.

“Nicely done!”

“Impressive!”

“Encore!”

The half-drunk able users cheered, demanding more stories from Lu Shangbai.

The mood grew ever more boisterous.

Able users drank and reveled, barriers between city-states forgotten. Toasts were made, tales of Ji Cheng’s exploits—embellished by Lu Shangbai—passed around, mutating with each telling. By the end, no one knew what the original story was, but every able user who left cast a new, curious glance Ji Cheng’s way.

Ji Cheng thought, if this were a game, he’d have at least a dozen “Reputation +1” icons popping up above his head.

...

Knock, knock, knock.

Ji Cheng opened his eyes. Night had fallen. Zhang Lingfei was standing outside the living module, rapping insistently on the glass.

Time to go, she mouthed.

When he and Zhang Lingfei climbed out of the vehicle, everyone was already assembled. It was hard to reconcile them with the debauched crowd from before.

For this expedition into the Hive Laboratory, there were over forty participants—one third from New Southport.

The other major city-states—Sand City, Rift Valley, Red Eagle Republic, Anxi City, and Blackwater Hanging City—each sent six or seven young able users.

With the mission at hand, everyone was focused and ready, grim-faced and silent, though the glances they threw at Ji Cheng were still peculiar.

Now sober, they recognized Lu Shangbai’s story for exaggeration, but it had nonetheless left a deep impression.

Ji Cheng, with Luo Rao in tow, quietly took his place at the back of Councillor Yao’s squad. Ahead were the Zhang sisters, then a cropped-haired youth, followed by a shifty-eyed man and a woman in her thirties missing an ear.

He’d seen them around but didn’t know their names.

But by their manner, it was clear they moved in Councillor Yao’s circle.

Ji Cheng himself wasn’t much for factionalism; in fact, he felt the able users from other city-states were more worth befriending than Yao and his cronies.

“Line up, one card each. Whatever you get, that’s it—no trades.”

Each team was handing out cards, blue and white, about the size of playing cards, finely crafted.

He’d already reviewed the materials Zhou Ze had given him before his nap, so he knew these were the identity cards required to enter the Hive. White cards granted lower clearance, blue ones were better.

“Ji Cheng.”

Yao Lun approached, handing him a grayish-white card. “This is your identity card. Keep it safe.”

On the front, a bold letter A; on the back, name, photo, and other details.

[Name: Bai Jie]

[Gender: Female]

[Rank: Assistant Researcher]

[Access Area: Non-core Section of Area A]

“Captain.”

This was Ji Cheng’s first time standing so close to Yao Lun.

They were of similar height, but Yao was clearly broader, exuding an intimidating presence.

His triangular eyes fixed unblinkingly on Ji Cheng, giving him an indescribable, uneasy feeling.

Ji Cheng accepted the card, replying blandly, “Thank you, Captain.”

Better to keep his head down for now—he had no standing to challenge Yao Lun yet.

“Keep it safe. Lose it, and you’re dead,” Yao Lun said with a twisted smile.

He’d given Ji Cheng the lowest-clearance white card.

In the Hive Laboratory, different cards allowed access to different areas.

This white card permitted entry only to certain parts of Area A.

And though the card granted an identity, they weren’t true researchers—security was tight in some places, so they had to avoid any passage requiring full ID verification.

Only the swipe-to-enter corridors were safe.

“Get ready. The lizard’s about to wake up.”

Clang, clang, clang.

Suddenly, a deafening crash rang out.

Everyone turned in unison. The drilling machine, hard at work in the sand, seemed to have jammed. The surrounding sand began to swirl and quake, plumes of dust engulfing the wheels as the massive machine tilted left, a fissure opening on its side.

The sandy bedrock split, peeling away on both sides. Countless pebbles, sand grains, and sheets of grit cascaded downward, clouds of dust exploding like cotton batting across the sky.

A vast chasm appeared in the hollow—circular, narrowing toward the top, the depths sparkling with scattered points of light.

It was unmined energy crystal.

The opening was at least 120 meters wide; Ji Cheng saw the drilling rig topple in, crashing down a series of sand waves before echoing dully from deep below.

The sound was muffled, hollow.

Massive beyond measure.