Chapter 15: Purple Mist, Hidden Trails: Turning Point and Cost

Pale purple mist, like a gauzy veil, drifted at the entrance of the shack, carrying that strange, invigorating scent of herbs and wood. The few raiders enveloped by the mist stood frozen, movements stiff, eyes vacant, trapped in a brief state of stupor. Even the frenzied Dog, whose charge had been wild as a rabid dog, faltered—the whirring roar of his chainsaw dimmed slightly, and beneath his helmet, his eyes flickered with confused struggle.

This bizarre turn of events freed Ellie from certain death!

Her combat instincts were etched into her bones! Without a moment’s hesitation, as the chainsaw blade grazed past her, she not only dodged and slit the throat of one attacker, but used the twist of her body to spin like a top, her dagger carving a cold arc of death!

“Ssshh! Ssshh!” Two more lines of blood sprayed!

The two raiders closest to her, both stunned, one had his heart pierced by the dagger, the other his carotid artery severed—neither had time to scream before collapsing lifelessly!

In the blink of an eye, three of the four raiders surrounding Ellie lay dead!

The last remaining raider and the now-recovered Dog finally broke free from the strange paralysis! Seeing their comrades slain instantly, both eyes filled with shock and disbelief!

“Sorcery! It’s sorcery!” the surviving raider shrieked in terror, staring at the pale purple mist drifting at the shack’s entrance and at Lingna’s small figure—as if he’d seen a ghost—he took two steps back, unwilling to advance!

The Dog was fully awake now, his face beneath the helmet twisted by rage and humiliation! He had been affected by that inexplicable mist—nearly let the duck slip from his grasp!

“You bitch! I’ll grind you into paste!” The Dog roared like a beast, his chainsaw roaring back to full power! He ignored his terrified subordinate and charged at Ellie like a maddened monster—this time, his fury was fiercer, his chainsaw whirling in an impenetrable storm, determined to shred her to pieces!

Ellie had just completed her desperate counterkill, her breath still ragged. Facing the Dog’s full-force chainsaw storm, her pressure skyrocketed! She could only dodge through the whirl of blades and chains with ghostly agility, her dagger clashing against the heavy chainsaw, sending up blinding sparks—each impact numbed her arm. Danger loomed at every turn!

“Lingna! That mist! Do it again!” Lin Mo shouted in panic as Ellie slipped back into peril. He grabbed his last poisoned spear, but dared not throw it—afraid of hitting Ellie.

At the shack’s entrance, Lingna’s face was pale as paper. Watching the bloody battle outside and Ellie’s near-death struggle, tears streamed down her cheeks. She stared at the two seedlings in the broken bowl, now wilted after releasing the mist, panicked and terrified, voice trembling with sobs: “I… I don’t know how… they… they seem tired…”

The mist was fading fast! Its effect wouldn’t last!

Lin Mo’s heart sank. He watched the Dog’s furious assault, Ellie being driven into a corner, the terrified raider raising his gun again, poised to strike…

Despair surged again! Had that fleeting turn of fortune been nothing but a fleeting illusion?

Then—!

“Bang! Bang! Bang!”

From the eastern edge of the depression, toward the ruins leading to the “Gear Graveyard,” came sudden, sharp, rapid gunfire—not the boom of a hunting rifle, but the crisp staccato of an assault rifle’s burst!

The gunfire shattered the stalemate in the depression!

The raider preparing to ambush Lin Mo’s head exploded like a watermelon—red and white matter sprayed!

Then, more bursts!

“Pup-pup-pup!” Bullets struck the Dog’s rusted iron steed and surrounding cover, kicking up shards of stone and sparks!

“East! Ambush!” The Dog froze mid-motion, startled. He whirled toward the gunfire, his eyes beneath the helmet filled with suspicion—Could it be… those black-clad lunatics Old Karl warned about? Had they arrived so fast?

Ellie seized this critical moment! As the Dog’s chainsaw swept past, her body floated like a feather, skimming the edge of the blade—barely avoiding death. Simultaneously, her left hand shot out—not to strike the Dog, but to grasp the exposed, spinning drive chain on the side of the chainsaw!

“Ssskrrr—!!” A grating screech of metal and the stench of burning flesh filled the air!

Ellie grunted, her left hand instantly shredded by the spinning chain—yet she held on, with fearless determination, forcing the raging chainsaw to stall for a single instant!

That instant—

Her right hand, the bloodied dagger, struck like a venomous snake, driving deep into the narrow gap beneath the Dog’s helmet, where neck met shoulder armor—the weakest point!

“Pthsh!”

The dagger sank in! Blood erupted in a geyser!

“Ughhh—!” The Dog let out a deafening scream! The chainsaw clattered from his grip. His massive body reeled backward, hands clamped over his spurting neck, eyes wide with unbearable pain and terror!

Ellie struck and withdrew instantly. She released her mangled left hand and shot backward like an arrow. Her left arm hung limp, blood dripping from her fingertips, staining the blackened earth.

“Boss!” The few remaining Bloodclaw thugs cried out in terror at the Dog’s wound—but, cowed by the unknown gunfire from the east, none dared advance.

The Dog clutched his neck, blood gushing between his fingers. He glared venomously at Ellie, then fearfully toward the east—finally realizing all was lost!

“Retreat… retreat!!” He rasped a hoarse command, and with his men’s help, crawled and stumbled toward the one functional iron steed, abandoning his fallen comrades and the fallen chainsaw. With a roar, the machines fled chaotically toward Vulture Cliff, leaving behind a scene of carnage and thick, cloying blood.

The depression fell silent once more.

Lin Mo exhaled deeply, his strength drained. He slumped against the cover. He looked at Ellie—she was tearing a strip from her cloak, biting it to secure it around her shredded left hand, face pale, yet eyes still cold and sharp, fixed on the direction the Dog fled, burning with fierce resentment.

Lingna rushed out from the shack, flinging herself beside Ellie. At the sight of that horrific wound, tears poured down her face as she fumbled helplessly to assist with the bandaging.

“East…” Lin Mo’s nerves remained taut, eyes locked on the ruins where the gunfire had come from. Silence now. Who fired? Ally or enemy? Why shoot? Why not show themselves?

Ellie finished bandaging, lifted her head, her cold gaze also fixed on the east. Her left hand was severely wounded—she wouldn’t be able to use her crossbow for a long time. Her combat power was crippled.

Then, from the eastern ruins, a figure stepped slowly forward.

Not the black-clad raider they’d expected—but a lean man in a patched, faded camouflage and canvas jacket, his face smeared with greasepaint. He held a well-maintained semi-automatic rifle, its muzzle still smoking faintly. His eyes, sharp as a hawk’s, scanned the three in the depression, lingering on Ellie a moment longer—with scrutiny… and a hint of barely concealed surprise?

He stopped at the edge of the depression, beyond the thorny fence, not approaching. His voice, hoarse, spoke:

“Good shot, woman. Ruthless.” He meant the killing thrust against the Dog. “But you’ve stirred up a hornet’s nest. Bloodclaw’s ‘Cripple Wolf’ isn’t as easy to shake off as the Dog.”

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Lingna and the small potato patch, lingering a moment on the two wilted purple seedlings—his eyes flashed with sharp interest.

“As for us…” He pointed toward the direction he’d come from. “Scavenger Camp. Not enemies. But not friends either.” His tone carried the caution and detachment of a wasteland survivor. “I fired just to keep Bloodclaw’s mad dogs from celebrating. And… to see what you’ve got here worth their attention—and the Black Scorpions’.”

Black Scorpions? Lin Mo’s mind stirred. So that was the faction Old Karl meant by “those black-clad lunatics.”

“Now I’ve seen.” The lean man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. “Water… and the ability to grow green in this hellhole? Interesting.” He studied Lin Mo deeply, then glanced at Ellie’s still-dripping left hand.

“Let me warn you: Cripple Wolf won’t let this slide. Black Scorpion agents should be closing in soon. They’re more cunning, more greedy than Bloodclaw.” He hefted his rifle. “This place won’t hold. If you want to live, get out while you can—”

Before he finished, Ellie cut him off coldly, her voice hoarse from blood loss and pain, yet unwavering:

“We’ll hold it even if we can’t.” Her gaze swept over the bloodstained potato patch, over Lingna, then settled on Lin Mo—with a look he’d never seen before: complex, resolute.

“This… is home.”

The lean man froze. He stared at Ellie’s cold, unwavering eyes, then at Lin Mo and Lingna. Finally, he shook his head, as if unable to comprehend. “Freaks… all of you are freaks…” He muttered, fell silent, raised his rifle, and retreated warily—his figure vanishing into the eastern ruins.

The scavenger was gone. He brought no aid—only a deeper warning of danger… and a sliver of possibility?

The depression remained: blood, smoke, and heavy dread. Ellie was wounded. Lin Mo’s ammo was spent. Lingna’s mysterious seedlings were wilted. And a greater storm—Cripple Wolf’s rage and the Black Scorpions’ greed—was gathering like dark clouds.

Hope Outpost, after its bloody victory, sank deeper into the vortex. Ellie’s words—“This is home”—were they a vow… or a final dirge?

Lin Mo stared at Ellie’s nearly useless left hand, then at the two wilted seedlings in Lingna’s bowl. Heavy sorrow filled him. They’d paid a terrible price to repel the first wave—but the real test had only just begun.

He walked to the crude workshop frame, gazing at the thick steel workbench. One thought burned fiercely within him: He must repair Ellie’s short crossbow immediately. The workshop must function again. Otherwise, the next attack would be their end.