Zheng Rong gazed at Lance, an indescribable mix of emotions welling up inside him. The most important people in his life—Zheng Feng, Li Ying, Lance, and later Xiang Yu—all shared a deep bond. In a way, they were all orphans, including Zheng Rong himself. Li Ying had lost his parents at a young age, Zheng Feng and Zheng Rong were the orphans of scientists, and Lance was their most loyal friend. They treated each other like family, relying on one another to survive the apocalypse. One by one, Zheng Rong had sent them off to the battlefield, only to later retrieve their bodies. Sometimes, he wished he could have sacrificed himself to the Maya star beings instead.
But the responsibilities of a scholar and a soldier were different. Zheng Rong had realized this the moment Zheng Feng joined the military. Today, he was facing the departure of yet another loved one.
Looking back, he had never treated Lance fairly. Yet, Lance had always accepted this, even embracing it. Lance was bold in expressing his feelings, willingly facing rejection or evasive responses. They had walked a seemingly endless road together. Zheng Rong pursued the spirits of his brother and Li Ying, while Lance followed behind, chasing after Zheng Rong’s shadow. Finally, they had reached this dead end.
"I guess..." Zheng Rong said bitterly, "I’m the last one left alive. How absurd. How cruel."
Lance laughed. "What did Xiang Yu tell you? At least you still have him."
Zheng Rong walked to the edge of the platform, sitting against the railing, tears brimming in his eyes as he finally spoke. "Can’t someone else go on this mission?"
Lance didn’t approach him. Uncharacteristically, he didn’t offer any comfort. Instead, he spoke seriously. "Listen, Zheng Rong."
Zheng Rong continued, "Does Wei Rong really believe this mission will turn the tide?"
Lance replied, "No, it’s not like that... Zheng Rong, I don’t even know all the details of the plan. I think they—"
"Forget it," Zheng Rong interrupted. "I need to talk to him."
"Wait!" Lance called out.
"I can’t accept this!" Zheng Rong declared.
Lance suddenly said, "I don’t love you, Zheng Rong."
The silence between them lingered. After a while, Lance smiled. "Or rather, I don’t love you the way you think I do."
Zheng Rong, half-amused, half-exasperated, replied, "That doesn’t matter. Even if we don’t have... that kind of relationship, you’re still family to me, like Xiang Yu, Li Ying, and my brother."
Lance chuckled. "It does matter. You need to understand—I’m not going on this mission because I love you. Besides, the survival odds aren’t as bad as you think. I’ll try my best to come back alive."
"Our relationship has nothing to do with romance. I know this sounds... silly."
Zheng Rong remained silent.
Lance sighed, "I know you don’t care about this stuff, but I wanted to say it anyway. Maybe I made you misunderstand..."
Zheng Rong interrupted, "Come on, Lance. Do you really think your actions would only lead to misunderstandings?"
Lance laughed, pausing before saying, "Yeah, I guess I’ve been telling myself—convincing myself—ever since Zheng Feng left us, that I had to be the one to take care of you. It’s like Anthony said—it’s self-hypnosis. You repeat something in your mind enough times, trying to make it happen."
"You’ve talked to Anthony?" Zheng Rong asked.
"Yes," Lance answered, avoiding Zheng Rong’s gaze. "I feel guilty. Li Ying and Zheng Feng died because of me. I wanted to take their place in looking after you. So, I kept convincing myself that I should do everything a lover would do. But the truth is, I don’t love you. Now I can finally admit it. I deceived you."
Zheng Rong responded, "Li Ying forgave you. I understood what he was thinking in his final moments. He didn’t even care—he had already died on the spaceship. The one you attacked was just a copy of him."
Lance nodded, his expression somber. "Maybe so. Thank you, Zheng Rong."
Zheng Rong stood up. "Love and family don’t matter much to me, either. You can let it go, Lance. Our bond doesn’t need such clear distinctions. I love you all. I know it sounds cheesy, but it’s true. I can’t afford to lose any of you... but I’ve already lost too many."
Lance’s voice deepened. "You’ve always been stronger and braver than the rest of us, Zheng Rong. Please, be our foundation. Help us finish this mission."
Zheng Rong gazed at Lance, who slowly knelt down on one knee and took Zheng Rong’s hand. His voice softened, "I vow to protect the weak."
He unfastened his military sword from his belt and handed it to Zheng Rong.
The distant past and uncertain future drifted away from them. Zheng Rong stood in silence for a long time before finally accepting the sword, pressing it to Lance’s shoulder.
"I vow to fight tyranny."
"I vow to combat and correct all wrongs."
"I vow to fight for the defenseless," Lance declared solemnly.
"Zheng Feng and Li Ying’s spirits will protect you," Zheng Rong said quietly. "Fight for me. I’ll be waiting for your victorious return at Westwind City’s coast."
Lance bowed his head. "I vow to remain loyal until death."
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Lance smiled faintly as he stood up.
"Goodbye, Lance. Please come back alive," Zheng Rong said. "I’ve lost too much already."
Lance nodded silently, then extended his arms and embraced Zheng Rong. As the command meeting ended, officers began streaming out of the hall. Zheng Rong turned to leave, while Lance hurried inside to take on his mission.
That night, Zheng Rong, his hair damp with sweat, sat curled up in a corner playing the harmonica. The music faltered and stopped as he finally broke down in tears, just as he had done many years ago on a dark ship while crossing the Suez Canal with Zheng Feng. The boat gently rocked on the night tide, accompanied by young Zheng Rong’s quiet sobbing.
Xiang Yu approached, draping a warm blanket over Zheng Rong’s shoulders.
He said nothing, as always, silently tidying the room, marking pages in scattered books, folding clothes, and arranging everything neatly. Finally, he entered the bathroom to brush his teeth.
After washing up, Xiang Yu used a towel to dry Zheng Rong’s hair. He seemed like he wanted to say something but remained silent.
Zheng Rong, nestled in Xiang Yu’s arms, gradually drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, when Zheng Rong awoke, the pillow beside him still carried Xiang Yu’s warmth, but he was gone.
Zheng assumed Xiang Yu had gone to report in at the East District as usual and didn’t think much of it. His hair was a mess as he sat on the bed for a while. He made himself some coffee, then sat down at the table. A note was stuck to the monitor screen:
Forgive me, Zheng Rong. I have to go.
"Go where?" Zheng Rong muttered, furrowing his brow. "Where do you all think you're going?"
He took a deep breath, standing in the empty room for a moment before dialing the intercom.
No one answered at Lance’s office.
Zheng walked to the window and pulled back the curtains. In the distance, the staircases were crowded with people, helping each other as they left the underground city and ascended to the surface.
Westwind City was eerily empty, with no sign of military personnel. Armed militia escorted the remaining civilians up the stairs, maintaining order.
Zheng Rong packed up his things, powered down his devices, and hurried out into the corridor. He grabbed a militia member and demanded, "What’s going on?"
The black militia member nodded politely and replied, "General Wei Rong issued a command from the control center. Scholars are to stay in the underground city, but everyone else is allowed to go to the surface and wait."
"Wait for what? What’s the plan? Has the military deployed? Where have they gone?" Zheng Rong pressed.
"The higher-ups didn’t explain," the soldier replied. "They just said that, as of today, the lockdown is over."
Zheng Rong pulled on his coat and ran through the central district. He passed several young scholars sitting in the empty cafeteria, casually discussing mathematical problems over coffee.
Zheng Rong shouted, "Has the military taken action?"
One scholar, recognizing Zheng Rong, replied, "Who knows? Whatever they’re doing, it’s their business. Haven’t we already completed our task?"
Zheng Rong stood in the cafeteria for a moment before suddenly remembering someone. He turned and headed toward the northern district.
There, in the underground city’s detention area, all the guards had been removed, and the prison corridors were empty. The inmates banged on their cell bars, shouting loudly.
Each prisoner had a private cell. Zheng Rong glanced at each one as he passed. There weren’t many prisoners in Westwind City. Resources were scarce, and most criminals had been sent to hard labor or executed to conserve survival resources. Those who were held here were considered too difficult to deal with—people the military couldn’t kill but didn’t know how to handle.
"Let us out!" someone shouted. "The apocalypse is coming! Humanity is going extinct! Why won’t you let us escape?"
"Chinese man! You’re all running away!"
"Quiet!" Zheng Rong barked.
For a moment, the cell block fell silent, but then the clamor resumed, almost drowning Zheng Rong in a wave of anger and despair. His voice cut through the noise, calm and clear.
"I am Zheng Rong."
The prison block fell quiet again.
"You’re the occult scholar?" one inmate said in surprise. "I’ve seen you on the broadcasts."
"Yes, I’m Zheng Feng’s brother," Zheng Rong replied. "Please be quiet. I’m looking for someone named Anthony. He’s an American. Do you know him?"
"He’s in cell A7," someone pointed toward the end of the corridor. Zheng Rong passed by that person’s cell, and the inmate hurriedly asked, "Are we going to die?"
"What’s happening outside?!"
"Is the military launching a suicide attack?"
The prisoners bombarded Zheng with questions, but he snapped, "Shut up! I don’t know either."
"I don’t think we’ll die," came the voice of an old woman from the end of the row.
"Oh, old granny," Zheng Rong replied coldly. "They haven’t executed you yet?"
Zheng Rong moved to the window of a cell and saw Eve, the old woman, sitting in a wheelchair, calmly knitting.
"They haven’t," Eve replied lightly. "I still have to finish this scarf for my grandson. It’s a Christmas gift."
"Your grandson’s dead, isn’t he?" someone in the neighboring cell jeered.
The prisoners erupted in noise again, but Zheng Rong silenced them. "I have questions for you, about the details of our last operation."
Anthony’s voice came from the cell across the corridor. "She won’t tell you anything."
Zheng Rong’s footsteps echoed as he approached another cell. Inside, Anthony was sitting on his bed, closing the book he had been reading and placing it on the nightstand.
"I thought you’d come sooner," Anthony said.
"You’ve been waiting for a long time?" Zheng Rong asked. "Xiang Yu and Lance already talked to you."
Anthony grunted noncommittally.
Zheng Rong studied Anthony from behind the cell bars, noticing how much weaker he looked. He had many questions but didn’t know where to begin.
"You know a lot," Zheng Rong said. "Where should I start? Let me think."
Anthony gazed up at Zheng Rong. "What’s happening outside?"
Zheng replied, "They’ve launched the final counteroffensive. It might end in victory, or it might end in complete failure."
The prison erupted into noise again. Zheng Rong said, "If I’m going to die with you all, what’s there to be afraid of? I’ve done so much, and you’ve done nothing. We’re all stuck in these little rooms, with the same fate. We can’t escape death."
The noise faded again into a tense silence.
Anthony smiled. "You’re a born leader. You can rile people up with a few words or quiet them down just as easily."
Zheng Rong took a deep breath. "Let’s start from the fall of Alaska. If you want to know any interesting information, shut your mouths and don’t interrupt."
Eve’s voice drifted from her cell. "Humanity will never go extinct."
"We’re close," Zheng Rong replied sharply. "It’s your fault—and his."
Anthony asked, "What do you want to hear? That expedition to Mesopotamia was a gamble with the fate of the entire underground city. Even the mastermind behind it believed there was a good chance it would cost billions of lives."
Zheng Rong pressed, "I didn’t know beforehand that you were secretly using your radio frequencies to contact the underground city. Do you have any idea what consequences that could’ve caused?"
Anthony smiled. "If you knew who planned that operation, you wouldn’t think it was so foolish."
Zheng retorted, "It doesn’t matter who it was. It was reckless—"
Anthony interrupted, "It was the teacher."
Zheng Rong’s world went black, his body cold. He clutched the iron bars, struggling to breathe.
"Yes, you heard right," Eve said casually from her cell. "That old man knew everything."
At the same time, the massive Maya mothership rotated slowly, the twelve symbols on its base glowing as it released billions of metal spheres. These transformed into flying machines, each with a silver cocoon embedded inside. Divided into squads, they began their descent toward Earth’s five continents.
The final battle was about to begin. The surviving humans left the Cape of Good Hope, returning to long-abandoned surface outposts. Military helicopters descended—over the ruins of Alaska, the blast site in Northern Ireland, the military center in the English Channel. Large forces began migrating toward the underground city in Antarctica.
The endless expanse of ice cracked open as the nuclear-powered underground city raised towering magnet towers from the permafrost. The towers’ electrical fields formed bright white rings of energy around the central tower.
Nikola Tesla’s research had led to the creation of high-powered Tesla coils, which generated intense energy, spreading through hundreds of smaller towers. These towers redistributed the power, extending the electrical defense perimeter outward.
From space, a blinding white light surrounded the South Pole, ionizing the air and causing the Earth’s magnetic field to fluctuate wildly. Gravity around Antarctica increased, churning the seas and moving icebergs toward the extreme south.
The auroras dissipated in the magnetic chaos, while thousands of icebergs converged, forming a magnificent city of ice and snow. Amidst the desolation, the main gates of Antarctica’s underground city slowly opened, covered in frost.
High above the Peruvian plateau, the Maya mothership tilted slightly, pulled by the increasing gravitational force.
In the Andes, thousands of llamas sprinted across the plains.
A military helicopter touched down in a clearing. Xiang Yu set the smart navigation system, pulling out a golden medal—the hero’s badge that General Wei Rong had personally awarded him before departure.
He tied it to the helicopter’s control stick, then leaped out. The helicopter, with its deafening roar, took off again, unmanned, heading back to Westwind City.
Xiang Yu’s hair had grown longer, his bangs covering his left eyebrow. His eyes were sharp and handsome. He checked his sword again—an ancient blade named Zhanlu—and adjusted his armor, which resembled fish scales. His boots were made of bone and steel. He looked like a general about to lead thousands into battle.
Though the ancient armor seemed out of place and almost comical, there were no onlookers to judge.
Xiang Yu gazed toward the distant temple and began walking.
In the grass near the temple, he found a keychain shaped like a small black stone snake—one of the twelve zodiac animals. He recognized it; Zheng Rong had owned one just like it, shaped like a dog.
This must have been left here four years ago, the place where Li Ying had once boarded the spaceship.
Xiang Yu looked up. A beam of light shone from the top of the temple, connecting the flying saucer to the stone structure below.
He entered the temple.
Inside, a massive statue loomed, carved from rough stone. The figure’s eyes were half-closed, its form abstract, its hands clasped before its chest. It was a god of the ancient Maya, symbolizing rebirth. The temple had long been overgrown with vines, though four years ago, Li Ying and his special forces had cleared away some of the plants.
A soft light descended from the top of the temple, illuminating the area in front of the statue.
Xiang Yu stepped into the light and was slowly lifted off the ground, rising toward the center of the mothership above.