Chapter 50: What the—! She Came Out to Fight on Her Own?

Su Miao gently patted Xia Xiaoan’s head, soothing her nerves.

Now that she understood Xia Xiaoan’s ability, new ideas began to stir in Su Miao’s heart. As long as people were alive, they would have thoughts—thoughts that would manifest in their minds, and once within a certain distance, Xia Xiaoan could hear them, could even influence them. Unless someone became a walking corpse, there was truly no hope.

As for whether Xia Xiaoan would deceive her, Su Miao had no concerns. Within a certain range, whenever malice was directed toward her, she could sense it—and the closer the distance, the stronger the sensation.

“Xiaoan, you should rest for now,” Su Miao said softly. “Later, when those people prepare to attack, use your mind control to plant a suggestion of courage and fearlessness in them, so they can charge forward without hesitation.”

So long as those people showed themselves, whether by day or night, she could deal with them easily.

Looking at Su Miao, her expression firm, Xia Xiaoan nodded. “Alright!”

Having finally revealed the secret she’d kept hidden for so long, and finding that Su Miao hadn’t driven her away, Xia Xiaoan felt a wave of relief. The tension that had gripped her eased, and before she knew it, she’d fallen asleep leaning against Su Miao’s shoulder.

…

The fighting paused for the time being.

The strike team on the mountain began to withdraw, and the team by the rope bridge withdrew as well. There was nothing they could do—Su Miao’s attacks were simply overwhelming. She would fire into the sky, and bullets would rain down to kill by sheer chance, as if she were using cheats. No one dared show themselves again until the catapult was ready.

Meanwhile, the conscripted disaster survivors, braving the torrential rain, began hauling materials and constructing the catapult under the watchful eyes of the strike team members. If anyone slacked off, they were beaten mercilessly. If the beatings didn’t work, slackers were stabbed to death on the spot as a warning to others.

As human cannon fodder, the survivors dared not utter a word of complaint.

He Weixin, one of those survivors, began to feel hopeful again. Having taken part in the attack and survived by sheer luck, he’d managed to earn the strike team’s approval and was now given a supervisory role.

Once the catapult was built and the explosives detonated, Su Miao would surely die—and his own life would be spared. The future, for once, seemed bright to him.

By contrast, Fei Chengqiang, the leader of the Ruins, had become nothing more than a head laborer in the pouring rain. He Weixin remembered all too well how arrogant Fei Chengqiang had been when he first arrived at the resort, how he’d looked down on everyone.

Meanwhile, Old Song, who had been silent for a long time, slipped into one of the houses.

A sniper had set up here before, only to be taken out by Su Miao. Two more had tried to retrieve the sniper rifle later, and both had met the same fate. Since then, no member of the strike team dared approach the weapon.

As one of the few not under control, Old Song had been hiding in the villa all this time. Now, sensing his chance, he decided to retrieve the sniper rifle at last.

Knowing that touching the weapon might get him killed, Old Song crawled toward the corpse in textbook fashion. The closer he got, the harder his heart pounded—he half expected a bullet to crash through the window and end him then and there.

But the closer he drew, the deeper his hatred for Fei Chengqiang became. With this rifle, he could finally have his revenge.

He grabbed the weapon.

Clutching the sniper rifle, Old Song rolled to the wall, panting heavily. For a moment, he felt as though he’d brushed past death itself, standing right at death’s door.

At that moment, in Villa No. 36, Xia Xiaoan’s eyes flew open. “Sister, someone’s trying to take the sniper rifle.”

Su Miao, holding her M416, began to tremble. Someone was after the sniper rifle? That was dangerous!

Erring on the side of caution, Su Miao hurried to the front of the villa and peered through the window where the rifle had been left. Xia Xiaoan followed and said, “Sister, the sniper rifle’s been taken, but the person who took it isn’t after you. He wants to kill someone else.”

Su Miao breathed a sigh of relief.

In that case, she could leave it be for now.

Sensing no malice directed her way, she turned back, returned to the rear of the villa, and with her M416 in hand, kept watch on the mountain every so often.

It seemed nothing more would happen until the catapult was finished.

Should she just keep waiting? Or take the initiative?

Su Miao considered her situation. The villa was entirely surrounded. Leaving would be tantamount to suicide—and even at this distance, the tension was nearly unbearable. To confront them directly was out of the question.

First, something to eat.

She rummaged through her magic space, found some cake and milk tea, and set them on the table to share with Xia Xiaoan.

As they ate, night gradually fell.

Outside, the strike teams still supervised the disaster survivors as they toiled over the catapult.

“Night’s fallen; should we try sneaking up now?”

“Brother, do you really think an enemy with aim hacks cares if it’s night or day?”

Two strike team members, sheltering under a makeshift tarp, watched the survivors work and fell silent after just a few words. Remembering their fallen comrades, the young man who’d raised the question felt a deep shame.

For once, he hoped the team leaders would show some wisdom and not send them to die in the darkness.

Fortunately, all the team leaders remained calm, with no hint of reckless action. In their eyes, once the catapult was finished and the explosives launched, everything would be over. The entire resort would fall under their rule, free of resistance—they could do as they pleased.

So long as a deadly sharpshooter lurked in the resort, no one could sleep soundly.

…

In the eastern landslide zone, Old Song crept into a villa with a good vantage point, from which he could see the catapult construction site five hundred meters away.

Heaven smiled on him—the torrential rain stopped.

In the glow of the floodlights, he could clearly see the conscripted survivors scrambling about. It didn’t take long before he spotted his target, Fei Chengqiang—the enemy he’d longed to kill.

Seeing his nemesis, Old Song’s eyes blazed with the fury of revenge. Still, he didn’t act right away; instead, he scanned the crowd to see if any other members of the Ruins were present among the survivors.

Anyone who had eaten his food but tried to kill him would not be spared.

He found two more.

Closing his eyes, Old Song took a deep breath; when he opened them again, all rage was gone—only an icy coldness remained.

He raised the sniper rifle, adjusted his aim, and in one smooth motion, locked onto his target.

For a fleeting moment, he was transported back to his days as a young recruit in special forces training. Though many years had passed, the instant his hands gripped the rifle, all those memories came flooding back.

Bang!

A single gunshot echoed through the rain-washed night.

On the catapult site, a man’s head exploded, and he collapsed in the puddles, blood staining the rainwater red.

Not far away, Xu Heng, leader of Strike Team 11, jumped to his feet. Seeing the man felled by a headshot, his expression shifted rapidly. “Damn! She’s taking the initiative?”