Chapter 37: Justice Is Always Late—How Much More So Am I? (Please Follow!)

“Brrrrrrrrrrrrrrr————！！！！！！”

Bullets screamed as the miniature autocannon, firing 3,500 rounds per minute, effortlessly tore through the fourth xenomorph’s defenses and reduced it to slag at point-blank range.

But at this moment, the autocannon’s ammunition was exhausted, and Mou Gang had no time to swap magazines before two more xenomorphs dove down through the hole above.

Seeing this, Mou Gang fired off the last remaining rounds, then hurled the autocannon aside and charged straight ahead.

His towering two-meter-three frame made him no less imposing than these warrior xenomorphs; combined with his vibranium armor, now splattered with acidic blood, he looked even more ferocious.

After a brief struggle, Mou Gang, with his giant ancestry, gained the upper hand: his left hand gripped one xenomorph’s throat and squeezed tightly, immobilizing it, while his right hand drove the high-frequency blade upward into the other xenomorph’s underbelly.

With a wet *plop*, the razor-sharp blade, vibrating at a frequency invisible to the naked eye, pierced through its chin and drove straight through its skull, then twisted several times to turn its brain into mush.

Immediately after, yellow-green acidic blood dripped to the floor, emitting the familiar sizzling sound of corrosion.

Shit!

Sensing the floor beneath him loosen, Mou Gang finally realized what was happening.

The earlier acid rain had already melted away part of the main control room’s flooring; now, with the combined weight of him and the two xenomorphs, it could no longer hold—and was about to collapse.

Mou Gang panicked, desperately trying to drop the two xenomorphs and leap clear of the crumbling floor—but the one he was gripping with his left hand wrapped its tail around him, and with a thunderous crash, he vanished into the main control room, falling into the lower deck below.

At this moment, only Zhan Lan and Chu Xuan remained in the main control room, yet xenomorph shrieks still poured from the shattered ceiling, seemingly endless.

Of course, that was impossible.

Although Zhan Lan could no longer spare mental energy for a psychic scan, based on prior efficiency, no more than thirty xenomorphs remained alive aboard the ship, most concentrated near Zheng Zha’s team; at most, ten remained near them.

Even so, with only two left—Zhan Lan, severely wounded, and Chu Xuan, a soldier who claimed to be a clerk—surviving an attack by ten xenomorphs seemed utterly impossible.

“Three minutes are up.”

Chu Xuan exhaled, pulling another large-caliber revolver from his waist—this one not the infinite-ammo version, which was why he hadn’t used it earlier.

“I can’t hold on much longer…”

Zhan Lan’s nose bled, her eyes bloodshot and glazed, yet she pressed hard against her temples, forcing herself awake: “I’ll try to control these xenomorphs. If I fail, find a way to escape. When Wu Xian returns, he’ll protect you.”

“What about you?”

Chu Xuan asked, a hint of doubt creeping into his voice—so subtle even he didn’t notice it.

“He said he’d revive us all… I believe him!”

Zhan Lan managed a weak smile—then two more xenomorphs dropped down: one leapt through the lower hole, seemingly to continue attacking Mou Gang, while the other charged straight at Zhan Lan and Chu Xuan without hesitation.

She activated her still-imperfect telepathy, barely locking the xenomorph in place—but controlling its chaotic, violent mind was still far beyond her current capacity.

Just then, a deafening series of gunshots rang in her ears—over a dozen rounds, nearly all striking the same spot on the xenomorph’s skull.

In a shooting competition, this would be a string of perfect tens; even though she’d seen Chu Xuan’s marksmanship before, Zhan Lan couldn’t help but be stunned.

She had reason to suspect that even without her telepathy, he could single-handedly kill several xenomorphs.

If that were true, maybe they wouldn’t die after all…

As she thought this, a sudden wave of dread crashed over her.

A dark shadow struck her head with full force—the vibranium-modified helmet spared her from a skull burst and absorbed most of the impact.

Yet even so, exhaustion from prolonged use of the genetic lock triggered a violent wave of dizziness, nearly knocking her unconscious.

At that instant, something wrapped around her waist, lifting her off the ground and yanking her upward through the hole.

Gunfire erupted continuously beside her, mingling with Mou Gang’s furious roars from below.

Beneath her helmet, her face twisted into a bitter smile—she didn’t know if the vibranium armor could withstand the tearing of multiple xenomorphs, but under current circumstances, she’d almost certainly never return to the Main God Space.

What a pity… I’d even started to like that guy, and I never got to tell him. If I’d known, I should’ve… never mind. I hope he keeps his word—maybe he’ll really bring me back.

*Boom————！！！*

In her hazy state, she heard the roar of thunder and a chorus of terrified screams.

Then, all sound ceased. She felt someone beside her, one hand supporting her shoulder, the other sliding under her knees, lifting her into a cradle hold.

Cold. Hard. Yet radiating an indescribable sense of safety.

In that moment, all her fatigue, all her pain, vanished entirely.

She still had no strength—but that was fine. It gave her an excuse to rest a little longer in this not-quite-warm embrace.

“I saw it. You did well. Now leave the rest to me…”

Before the world plunged into complete darkness, she heard him say those words.

…

“You’re late.”

Watching Wu Xian drift down through the hole in the ceiling, Chu Xuan spoke calmly.

“Justice is always late—how much more so am I? As long as I don’t miss the end, isn’t that enough?”

Wu Xian gently laid Zhan Lan on a relatively clean patch of floor. Behind him, movement came—Mou Gang had climbed up from below. Seeing Wu Xian and the unconscious Zhan Lan, he was instantly filled with guilt.

“Captain…”

“Don’t blame yourself. I know you did your best.”

Wu Xian comforted him, then communicated with Zheng Zha via Friday: “Zheng Zha, are you done? How many xenomorphs left?”

“We killed another dozen. The xenomorphs attacking us just suddenly retreated. Friday says the surveillance system is completely down… Damn! We’re out of time!”

Wu Xian glanced at his wristwatch—the countdown had just over eight minutes left.

“Self-destruct sequence disabled. Our last resort is useless. There’s no time left to chase down the remaining xenomorphs—and as you said, who knows if the Main God will count facehuggers and eggs?”

“Chu Xuan…”

At the final moment, Wu Xian dropped the playful “Little Chu” and looked seriously at Chu Xuan: “Do you have any other plan? Even one with only a fifty percent chance?”

“There is one.”

Chu Xuan, also watching Wu Xian, replied: “Reach the ship’s core reactor. According to my calculations, if we detonate a sufficient yield of explosives before the final minute, we can rupture its structural integrity and trigger an explosion that will destroy most of the ship as it descends toward Earth.”

“One minute?”

Wu Xian’s lips twitched. He hated admitting it, but among the entire Central Continent Team, only he could complete this task within such a limited timeframe.

And with the Black God Suit, he was also the only one with a realistic chance of surviving the explosion. No matter what, he had no choice but to go.

“Damn it, if I’d known this would happen, I should’ve bought a Flash bloodline!”

With a muttered complaint, Wu Xian spoke into the comm: “Everyone heard that. Return to the main control room—now, as fast as you can!”

“Captain, let me—”

“Shut up. That’s an order!”

…

*Boom! Boom! Boom! Boom—!!!!*

A dark shadow moved like lightning, drilling through hull walls like a drill bit, avoiding structural damage as much as possible, and racing in a near-perfect straight line to the ship’s core reactor.

Wu Xian took a deep breath and began pulling massive explosives from his storage space. Once he’d arranged them according to Chu Xuan’s specifications, he sprinted back along the path he’d blasted open.

Glancing at his helmet’s countdown: 1 minute 15 seconds remained. Nervous, he asked over the channel: “Chu Xuan, I forgot to ask—what’s your success rate this time?”

“Less than… one percent.”

The reply came, as always, utterly calm.

“Fuck!!”

Wu Xian cursed, watching the countdown hit the final minute, then roared:

“Friday! Blow it!!”

*BOOM————————————！！！！！！！！*

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(End of Chapter)