Chapter 497: Whirlwind Rescue

“A massive whirlwind?” Gao De didn’t react at first.

“Master Gao, you’re not from Luo Jun, so you might not know—in our region, there’s a saying: ‘The sea boils hot, the sky has a hole,’ and that’s what we mean by whirlwind.”

“In summer, when the weather heats up, the sea gets baked like boiling fish soup, hot air surges upward, and clouds get churned into spiral shapes like giant sea snails, spinning faster and faster until they become whirlwinds.”

As he spoke, he gestured with his hands in the air, trying to help Gao De visualize it.

“This whirlwind striking Oakland City is no ordinary one—its core wind speed reaches two hundred feet per second. This level of whirlwind is the strongest in fifty-six years.”

“The areas around it are devastated—century-old trees are ripped out by the roots, raindrops are harder than crab shells. Oakland City might fare a bit better, since it’s used to whirlwinds and has solid defenses, but the surrounding villages? They’re finished.”

The two staff members looked grim. “Even though their structures were built with whirlwinds in mind, they could only withstand ordinary ones. This is an extreme-level whirlwind—those small villages won’t survive.”

What’s a whirlwind? This is just a typhoon!

The first thought that popped into Gao De’s mind after hearing them was this.

In his past life, people in inland regions might never have seen a typhoon, but they’d certainly heard of one.

People along the coast? They faced them several times every year—they were utterly familiar with them.

That meant the typhoon now threatening the Oakland region was an extreme-category typhoon.

Gao De quickly calculated in his mind: two hundred feet per second was roughly sixty meters per second.

In his past life, that was a Category 17 typhoon—enough to inflict massive destruction and economic loss on a city.

“Didn’t Oakland City detect the whirlwind’s formation early and evacuate?” Gao De asked, puzzled.

The world’s technology was far behind his past life—it couldn’t possibly predict typhoon formation, determine its category, path, landfall point, or timing like he’d once known.

But with supernatural power, how could they be completely blind?

Even a low-level spell like [Druid Trick] could predict tomorrow’s weather—surely high-tier mages had spells to forecast whirlwind formation?

Magic isn’t that useless.

Gao De simply didn’t believe it.

“Luo Jun faces whirlwind invasions two or three times a year. Over the years, our experience is extraordinary—we even established a dedicated Storm Bureau to monitor whirlwinds and prepare emergency responses and defenses based on their development.”

“Then?”

“We heard this whirlwind is strange,” the two were equally baffled. “Whirlwinds need high temperatures, so they usually form only between Sunlight Month and Frostgold Month.”

“As the saying goes: Sunlight brings thunder, Frostgold guards against ambushes; the deadliest are Harvest and Darknight.”

“But it’s only early Greenleaf Month—the temperature hasn’t even risen yet. This whirlwind came far too early.”

“Also, this whirlwind formed incredibly fast. For a storm of this level, from detection to full development to landfall, it took only half a day.”

“The Storm Bureau spotted it immediately, but the time left for Oakland City was far too short.”

“I understand,” Gao De’s expression turned serious. “What’s my specific mission now?”

“The order is: rush to Oakland City for disaster relief. Your primary task is rescue. Also, as the whirlwind strikes, numerous water beasts will emerge—your duty is to eliminate them.”

The two exchanged glances, then replied: “Before you depart, go to the Abyss White Tower—they’ll give you your specific assignments.”

“Understood.” Gao De knew time was critical. He said no more, waved down a carriage, and headed straight for the Abyss White Tower.

Abyss White Tower, Testing Plaza.

Gao De arrived early, so few people were present.

The Sea Sentinel barracks were close to the Abyss White Tower, and Gao De received the alert quickly.

Besides the Sea Sentinel mages arriving one by one, many staff members were busy on the plaza.

Captain Merick was directing operations on-site.

He wore a crisp Sea Sentinel captain’s mage uniform, issuing orders loudly.

The whirlwind had struck so suddenly that even the experienced Captain Merick’s face was clouded with worry.

“Have the boats and carts been arranged?” he shouted.

“Still being organized—some are ready, can depart at any moment,” an aide ran over to answer.

“Hurry, hurry—before all personnel arrive, I need the vehicles and boats ready,” Captain Merick shouted, scanning the mages. “Those who know healing spells—step forward!”

Gao De stepped forward.

One by one, another dozen or so joined him.

Healing spells were rare, but Sea Sentinel mages were all elite combat mages, so the proportion who knew healing magic was extremely high.

“You go first. Once you reach the disaster zone, prioritize rescue, then assess the extent and condition of the damage. If you encounter large groups of water beasts and aren’t confident—don’t attack recklessly!”

“Understood!” everyone answered in unison.

“The whirlwind’s aftermath hasn’t cleared—airships can’t take off,” Captain Merick continued.

The whirlwind had just landed on Oakland City—airships were out of the question. The chaotic air currents and sudden gusts would smash them to pieces.

“To reach Oakland City, you must go by water or land. I know the distance is considerable, and the whirlwind’s remnants make it dangerous—but Sea Sentinel mages must lead when danger strikes. I order you: reach Oakland City within one day. Any objections?”

Within one day?

Although Oakland City and Duan City were technically adjacent, the world’s maps were vastly larger than his past life’s—what looked close was actually far.

And now, the Oakland region was battered by fierce winds and heavy rain—travel would be severely hindered.

But could they refuse?

“No objections!” everyone shouted.

“Give each of them a copy of the Whirlwind Rescue Compendium and a map of the Oakland region,” Captain Merick turned to the staff beside him.

Luo Jun faced whirlwinds every year—they’d long compiled a complete disaster response strategy into a manual.

Soon, staff handed out thin leather-bound booklets and maps to everyone.

“Study the materials on the way. Decide for yourselves—water or land route!”

Hurry! Hurry! Hurry!

Being a Sea Sentinel mage wasn’t easy—along with superior benefits and status came heavy responsibility.

Gao De didn’t stop walking. He shoved the waterproof-wrapped book into his chest and hurried out of the Abyss White Tower, brushing past newly arrived Sea Sentinel mages.

This was an emergency mandatory mission—everyone, regardless of rank, had to participate, even noble mages.

In fact, in the Jin Quehua Dynasty, nobles might have all kinds of flaws, but they had one virtue: in disasters, they always led from the front.

The clearest example: when war broke out, nobles from other nations usually preserved themselves—but Jin Quehua nobles suffered extremely high death rates.

Whether from genuine conviction or due to tradition and custom, they did it anyway.

Judge by deeds, not intentions.

This was one reason why Jin Quehua citizens felt such strong national identity and belonging.

Whirlwind invasions were natural disasters—but they could also trigger human calamities. Chaos breeds crime; evil people always seize the chance to profit, not to mention the water beasts arriving with the whirlwind.

Gao De first returned to his barracks, donned his armor (rune-constructed), armed himself with his sword (Northwind), then hurried to Greenwave Court to pick up Tuanzi.

He was an excellent swimmer, and for a mage, water route was faster under these conditions.

So Gao De didn’t hesitate—he chose water.

The situation was urgent, and personnel were departing in batches. Large ships were reserved for transporting supplies—boat allocation was extremely tight.

The so-called water route meant a small longboat equipped with a special “porpoise saddle.”

A porpoise saddle resembled a horse saddle: one end fastened to the porpoise, the other to the boat, letting the porpoise pull the boat swiftly forward.

That’s why water route was faster.

Otherwise, for ordinary people, even if the water route was shorter, a small boat lacked power, and complex winds made it slower than the safer land route.

Gao De dropped the porpoise saddle, patted Tuanzi’s round head, and fed it a few Spirit Berries. “You’ll have to work hard now.”

Tuanzi said nothing, happily devoured the berries, nodded firmly, patted its own “chest” with its short flippers, swore solemnly, then aimed for the saddle and slipped inside.

Gao De secured the ropes, shouted toward the water: “Depart.”

Tuanzi immediately strained forward, propelling the boat swiftly through the waves, accelerating rapidly toward Oakland City.

Though Tuanzi was only six years old, small in size, as a Tier One Earthline creature, its strength and endurance defied normal limits.

The boat split two long trails of water; droplets struck the bow and shattered into white spray under the speed.

Gao De sat at the bow, pulled out the Whirlwind Rescue Compendium, letting occasional splashes hit him as he read intently.

He carried some typhoon emergency knowledge from his past life: avoid water, valleys, lowlands—places prone to flooding; don’t shelter near trees—strong winds could snap trunks and cause injury.

But as for typhoon rescue procedures? He was completely clueless.

No choice—he’d have to cram now.

For Sea Sentinel mages, three tasks were most critical in whirlwind disaster relief.

First: rescue. Must act swiftly, prioritizing search and rescue of those trapped in danger zones.

This was paramount—all else was secondary.

Every second delayed meant another life lost to disaster.

With inferior technology, rescue was far harder than in his past life—navigating rubble and rushing currents to save people was beyond ordinary strength; only mages could do it.

Also, treat the injured as quickly as possible.

Second: maintain order.

Prevent looting and criminal acts amid panic—crush them immediately if found.

Simultaneously, eliminate water beasts to stabilize morale and prevent public panic.

Third: assess disaster conditions and extent, closely monitor potential secondary disasters.

Mages must use their power to survey the damage, map affected areas, and mark severely damaged zones.

Besides direct damage from landfall, whirlwinds trigger many geological hazards: floods, mudslides, landslides.

Good news: the Jin Quehua Dynasty’s terrain was mostly flat; major mountain ranges were limited to three chains—so mudslides and landslides weren’t a major concern.

Mainly, warn against and prevent storm surges, guard against seawater intrusion and flooding, and watch for falling debris from high places due to strong winds.

The book also recorded many useful knowledge and regulations, such as permitting special handling and harsh punishment when encountering criminal acts during storm rescues, as well as methods for sketching simplified disaster maps and criteria for judging geological hazards.

The Rescue Compendium was not thick, but contained nothing but essentials.

Gao De read it carefully several times, committing all its key points to memory.

Then, he opened the map of the Auckland region and compared it with his current location.

At this moment, the sky above Gao De had gradually turned dark.

Even at this distance from Auckland City, the sky had changed so noticeably; one could only imagine how severe conditions must be in Auckland City itself.

About two hours later, the small boat, pulled by Tuanzi, finally entered the boundaries of Auckland City.

Yet the scene before him sank Gao De’s heart even further.

Torrential rain poured down like a celestial river breaking its dam.

The sky was completely shrouded by a vast, dark cloth, dim as if night had arrived prematurely.

Beneath this hostile weather, the water surface had turned a murky gray, blurred and indistinct—nothing could be seen clearly.

A suffocating atmosphere of oppression hung all around.

The current had become wildly swift, surging forward like a herd of horses whipped into frenzy.

Waves crashed one after another, colliding and tumbling, emitting deafening roars.

The boat had no canopy, but under such extreme conditions, even if it had one, it would have been useless.

The raindrops were enormous, falling like hailstones, striking the boat’s surface with heavy “thuds,” then shattering into spray that flew everywhere—only to be instantly swallowed by fresh rain.

The rain pelted Gao De’s face, making it ache.

But he had no time to care—he was busy using [Water Manipulation] to continuously drain the rainwater accumulating on the boat’s hull.

Otherwise, too much water would sink the boat.

Tuanzi, beneath the water, remained completely unaffected; its round body swayed nimbly through the raging current, undisturbed even by the fiercest flow.

But Gao De’s small boat was far less resilient under these conditions.

As the current grew even fiercer and the waves taller, the boat began to shake violently, like a fallen leaf caught in a gale.

The bow rose high, then was slammed down again; the boat’s tilt angle grew ever greater.

Suddenly, a massive wave, taller than two men, surged forward like a furious beast, claws and fangs bared, lunging at the boat.

Even if Gao De strained every ounce of his [Water Manipulation] to block it, it was useless.

The wave crashed onto the boat with full force, instantly flipping it upside down.

Gao De felt his body suddenly light as air—he plunged into the freezing, raging floodwaters!

(End of Chapter)