Chapter 77: Hope Bulwark, Hearts Tempered

The shadow brought by the Abyssal Apostle was like sticky asphalt, smeared over the camp's newly kindled hope-light. After that night, Echo Camp fell into a kind of eerie silence—not panic, but the instinctive hush of being targeted by a higher-order predator. Even the boisterous Zhang Yang, when passing the spot where the firewall had shattered that night, would unconsciously lower his cap and quicken his steps.

Big Eye No. 2 runs 24/7; Kaiwen and Li Siwen practically live at the console, trying to glean more info about that 'Abyssal Apostle' from the lingering energy fluctuations—result: disheartening. Aside from confirming its rule level is absurdly high, they know nothing.

'The seed has been marked'…… What the hell is that? Did they send us a death notice?' Kaiwen grabbed his already messy hair in frustration, 'Still "awaiting harvest"? Does it think it's a farmland owner?!'

Li Siwen pushed his glasses, the eyes behind the lenses bloodshot: 'It's draining our morale. This is a psychological tactic.' He pulled up a dataset: 'Look, the area where the firewall was breached, the rule recovery speed is 47% slower than normal. It has left a…… "corrosive wound" on our "definition."'

This 'wound' is all too real. Chen Mo could clearly feel that maintaining the camp's firewall consumed far more than before, like a torn garment needing extra stitching to hold together. He spent most of his time seated at the camp's center, eyes closed in meditation—like an old monk entering samadhi—but in reality he was constantly using the power of the Primordial Core to slowly mend the rift in the rule, his complexion no better than when Han Qing was injured.

Su Yu saw it in her eyes, felt it in her heart. Besides using True Knowledge Vision to assist Chen Mo, she poured more energy into that test plot. Those few potato plants and Ning Shen Grass, plus the other loam plants carefully transplanted later, became the focus of everyone's gaze in the camp. Each time they sent up a new shoot, each time a leaf unfurled, it drew soft cheers and prolonged attention. This small patch of green became the most potent weapon against the intangible pressure.

'Look! It grew a bit taller again!'

'This Ning Shen Grass smells so nice, I don't feel as panicked.'

'Once the potatoes are done, I'm definitely going to eat my fill!'

Hope took root stubbornly amidst these simplest expectations.

Hui Jin and his followers began 'military training'. Not combat skills, but precise control of Pure Fire. They no longer pursued fire's might, but practiced how to condense Pure Fire into threads, how to output it more steadily and durably. Their sole goal: to become a firmer, more enduring foundation for the 'Definition Firewall'.

'Control! Control! Your fire isn't for burning wasteland!' Hui Jin's roar often echoed from a corner of the camp: 'Imagine you're using the finest brush to trace the most complex rune! A shake of the hand adds a fraction to the captain's burden!'

A young disciple's face flushed red from strain, the tiny thread of Pure Fire at his fingertip trembling, until it went out with a soft 'puff'. Hui Jin fumed, stomping his feet, but after cursing he stepped forward to demonstrate personally. The entire Pure Fire sect was permeated with an almost austere training atmosphere.

Han Qing's recovery became another shot of adrenaline. The Rule Neutralizer cleared most of his internal frost injuries; although full strength would take more time, he could already walk on the ground and even began participating in the camp's defense planning. His return gave the two shock troops, Zhang Yang and Wang Hu, a backbone, and patrol and hunting arrangements immediately became more orderly.

Yet the undercurrent always surges when hearts loosen.

One evening a few days later, several new arrivals surrounded Liu Qian and Zhao Lei, who were handing out food. Leading them was a scar‑faced man named Black Fang, a troublemaker even in his previous settlement.

'That's all?' Black Fang hefted the roasted tuber, barely bigger than a fist, his tone dissatisfied. 'We slave away every day, and this is all we get—just enough to stuff between our teeth? I heard the warehouse just looted some good stuff from some outpost; why aren't we sharing it?'

Liu Qian patiently explained: 'Those were life‑saving potions, already used up. Now food is tight, everyone's in the same boat……'

'The same?' Black Fang snorted, pointing at Kaiwen not far away, scribbling in a little notebook. 'What about that kid? I see him loafing all day, doing nothing—why isn't he hungry?'

Kaiwen lifted his head, pushed at his nonexistent glasses, and drawled: 'Hey… Mr. Black Teeth? I've loafed around to invent an early‑warning system that thwarted three potential attacks; I've loafed to optimize the water purifier, giving everyone relatively clean water. If you've got this "loafing" talent, you can also skip work.'

'You!' Black Fang choked, his face turning pale, and the few behind him started to clamor.

'Exactly! Why do their core members get to eat well and drink well?'

'And Han Qing, who's been laid up so long—once he wakes he uses that precious medicine……'

'We're human too! We demand fairness!'

The scene was about to spiral out of control. Zhang Yang and Wang Hu rushed over upon hearing the news, faces grim, hands on their weapons.

'You all want to rebel?!' Zhang Yang bellowed, cowing many.

But Black Fang, relying on his numbers, stuck out his chin: 'What? Can't even speak the truth? You lot in charge—aren't you just trying to make us oxen and horses, to work for you?!'

Just as the conflict was about to ignite, a calm voice sounded:

'You done?'

Chen Mo appeared out of nowhere, his complexion still pallid but his gaze sweeping over the crowd with an indisputable authority. He didn't look at Black Fang, but walked to the food‑distribution table and picked up a root tuber about the size of the one in his hand.

'Food is something we all grow, hunt, and save together.' Chen Mo's voice wasn't loud, yet it carried clearly to every ear: 'Han Qing's life was saved by medicine bought with brothers' blood. Kaiwen's "loafing" lets more people sleep soundly alive.'

He took a bite of his own portion, chewed slowly, then looked at Black Fang and those behind him:

'Feel it's unfair? Fine.'

'The gate's over there—no one's stopping you.'

'But if you want to stay, you must abide by Echo Camp's rules—share blessings, share hardships.'

'Think our core is getting a free ride?' Chen Mo pointed at himself, then at Hui Jin, Su Yu, and the others: 'What we eat is the same as yours. What we bear is the first wave of impact from that monster out there that could return any moment, and the responsibility of keeping the light‑screen over your heads from shattering.'

He paused, eyes like blades: 'If you don't want to bear the burden and only want to take? In the wasteland, there's no such free lunch.'

Black Fang and his ilk were cowed by Chen Mo's aura, speechless. The other wavering survivors also lowered their heads.

Chen Mo swallowed his last bite, turned and walked toward the camp's center to continue his repair work, leaving only these words:

'Those willing to share the burden, stay. Those just looking for a free meal, scram.'

'Echo Camp has no use for parasites.'

The disturbance was quelled by Chen Mo in the most direct way. No one left; Black Fang and his group slunk off resentfully, but a subtle rift seemed to remain.

Late at night, with all quiet, Su Yu found Chen Mo alone sitting on the watchtower and handed him a cup of hot water steeped in Ning Shen Grass.

'The pressure's heavy, huh?' she said softly.

Chen Mo took the cup, felt the slight bitterness give way to a hint of sweetness, and smiled: 'Not bad. At least the potatoes are still alive.'

He gazed down at the camp; most of the huts had their lights out, only the patrol squad's torches moving through the darkness like fireflies.

'The Abyssal Apostle wants to destroy our hope, to undermine us from within.' Chen Mo's voice was soft but steely: 'It underestimated…… the vitality of weeds.'

'As long as the roots remain, as long as someone keeps watering and fertilizing……'

'Even the barrenest soil can bloom.'

He took a sip of Ning Shen Grass tea, his gaze sweeping past the darkness toward the distance.

'And I think that guy…… is less a harvester and more a "verifier".'

'It's verifying whether this "seed" of ours is worth its personal intervention.'

'Then we'd better really "grow", or we'll disappoint it.' Su Yu grasped his hand, warmth passing through the skin.

Hope Bulwark requires not only the construction of rule‑power, but also the forging of hearts. After tonight, Echo Camp's lump of stubborn iron seems to have had a few more impurities hammered out.

The true test may have only just begun.