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 peculiar, invigorating scent of herbs and wood. The several 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 like a rabid dog, faltered—the whirring roar of his chainsaw dulled slightly, and beneath his helmet, his eyes flickered with confused struggle.

This bizarre turn of events freed Sister Ai Li from certain death!

Her combat instincts were etched into her marrow! Without a moment's hesitation, as the chainsaw blade grazed past her, she not only dodged and slit the throat, but used the twisting force 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 slit! Before they could even scream, they collapsed lifelessly!

In the blink of an eye, three of the four raiders surrounding Sister Ai Li lay dead!

The last remaining raider and the now-recovered Dog finally broke free from the strange paralysis! Seeing their comrades slain instantly, both their 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 Xiang Lingna's tiny figure—as if he'd seen a ghost—and took two steps back, refusing 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—almost let the duck slip from the pot!

"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 Sister Ai Li like a mad beast—this time, his fury was fiercer, his chainsaw whirling in an impenetrable storm, determined to shred her to pieces!

Sister Ai Li had just completed her desperate counterkill, her breath still ragged; facing the Dog's full-power chainsaw storm, her pressure skyrocketed! She could only dodge through the whirl of blades and chains with ghostly footwork, her dagger clashing against the heavy chainsaw, sending up blinding sparks—each impact numbed her arms! Danger loomed at every turn!

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

At the shack's entrance, Xiang Lingna's face was pale as paper. Watching the bloody battle outside and Sister Ai Li's desperate 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, saw Sister Ai Li slowly backed into a corner, saw the terrified raider raising his gun again, about to strike…

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

Then—!

"Bang! Bang! Bang!"

From the eastern edge of the depression, toward the ruins leading to "Gear Cemetery," came several sharp, rapid gunshots—not the thunder of hunting rifles, but the crisp bursts of an automatic rifle!

The gunfire instantly 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, whipped his head toward the gunfire—his eyes beneath the helmet filled with suspicion and disbelief! Could it be… those black-clad lunatics Old Karl warned about? Had they arrived this fast?

Sister Ai Li seized this split-second chance! As the Dog's chainsaw swept past, her body floated like a feather, sliding along the blade's edge—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—!!" The sickening screech of metal grinding and the stench of burning flesh filled the air!

Sister Ai Li grunted, her left hand instantly shredded by the spinning chain—yet she held on, with fearless determination, forcing the raging chainsaw to stall for an instant!

That instant—

Her right hand, the bloodied dagger, struck like a venomous snake, plunging from an impossible angle into the gap between the Dog's helmet and his shoulder armor—the weak point in his defense!

"Pthsh!"

The dagger sank deep! Blood erupted in a geyser!

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

Sister Ai Li struck and withdrew instantly, releasing her mangled left hand, retreating like an arrow loosed from a bow! Her left arm hung limp, blood dripping from her fingertips, staining the blackened earth.

"Boss!" The few remaining Bloodclaw thugs, watching their leader wounded, screamed in terror—but dared not advance, cowed by the unknown gunfire from the east.

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

"Retreat… retreat!!" He rasped a roar, half-carried by his men, crawling and stumbling toward the one functional iron steed, ignoring fallen comrades and abandoned chainsaws! With a roar, several iron steeds fled in disarray toward Vulture Cliff, leaving behind a scene of carnage and thick, cloying blood.

The depression fell silent once more.

Lin Mo exhaled deeply, feeling every ounce of strength drained. He slumped against the cover, looking at Sister Ai Li—she was tearing a strip from her cloak, biting it with her teeth, clumsily bandaging her mangled left hand. Her face was pale, but her eyes remained cold and sharp, fixed on the direction the Dog fled, burning with fierce resentment.

At the shack's entrance, Xiang Lingna rushed out, throwing herself beside Sister Ai Li. Seeing the horrific wound, tears fell in heavy drops; she fumbled helplessly, trying to assist with the bandaging.

"East…" Lin Mo's nerves remained taut, eyes locked on the ruins where the gunfire came from. Silence reigned. Who fired? Ally or enemy? Why shoot? Why not show themselves?

Sister Ai Li finished bandaging, lifted her head, her cold gaze also fixed on the east. Her left hand was severely wounded—she'd likely be unable to use her crossbow for a long time, her combat power crippled.

Then—out of the eastern ruins, a figure stepped slowly forward.

Not the black-clad raider expected, but a lean man in a patched, faded camouflage and canvas coat, 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 a moment on Sister Ai Li, 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. The Bloodclaw's 'Limp Wolf' isn't as easy to shake off as the Dog."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over Xiang Lingna and the small potato patch—especially lingering on the two wilted purple seedlings—his eyes flashing with sudden insight.

"As for us…" He pointed toward where he'd come from. "Scavenger Camp. Not enemies. But not quite friends either." His tone carried the caution and detachment of a wasteland survivor. "I fired just now to keep those Bloodclaw dogs from celebrating. And… to see what you've got here worth their attention—and the Black Scorpion's too."

Black Scorpion? Lin Mo's heart stirred—so that was the faction Old Karl meant by "those black-clad lunatics."

"Now I've seen enough." The lean man grinned, revealing yellowed teeth. "Water… and the ability to grow green in this hell? Interesting." He studied Lin Mo deeply, then glanced at Sister Ai Li's still-dripping left hand.

"Let me give you a warning: Limp Wolf won't let this slide. The Black Scorpion's people are closing in too. They're more cunning, more greedy than the Bloodclaw." He shook his rifle. "This place won't hold. If you want to live, get out while you can—"

Before he finished, Sister Ai Li coldly cut him off, her voice hoarse from blood loss and pain, yet unwavering in resolve:

"We hold it, even if we can't." Her gaze swept over the blood-soaked potato patch, over Xiang Lingna, then settled on Lin Mo—with a look he'd never seen before: complex, resolute.

"This… is home."

The lean man froze, staring at Sister Ai Li's cold, unyielding eyes, then at Lin Mo and Xiang Lingna. He shook his head, as if unable to comprehend. "Freaks… all of you are freaks…" He muttered, fell silent, raised his rifle, retreated warily—and vanished into the eastern ruins.

The scavenger was gone—not bringing aid, but a deeper warning of danger… and a sliver of possibility?

The depression remained: blood, smoke, and crushing dread. Sister Ai Li wounded, Lin Mo out of ammo, Xiang Lingna's mysterious seedlings withered. And a greater storm—Limp Wolf's rage and the Black Scorpion's greed—was gathering like dark clouds!

Hope Station, after a pyrrhic victory, plunged into a deeper vortex. Sister Ai Li's words—"This is home"—were they a vow... or a final dirge?

Lin Mo stared at Sister Ai Li's nearly useless left hand, then at the two wilted seedlings in Xiang Lingna's bowl, his heart heavy. 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, stared at the thick steel workbench—his resolve hardened: he must repair Sister Ai Li's short crossbow immediately. The workshop must function. Otherwise, the next attack would be their end.