Chapter 36: Are You With Them Too…?

As the lock fell off, the iron door swung open, revealing a pitch-black tunnel behind it.

The tunnel was so low that even someone as tall as One had to hunch over to move forward.

Xie Jianxun suspected the tunnel had been dug beneath the desert and feared it might collapse at any moment.

He pondered this, then reached out to touch the wall. Feeling the solid brick structure, he let out a sigh of relief.

In the end, he had agreed to Krimus’s request and brought him along.

One walked at the front. Without rope, it bound Krimus’s hands with his own belt and dragged him out like a sack of flour. Fortunately, his legs still had no sensation, so the bumps, scrapes, and bruises went unfelt.

Xie Jianxun brought up the rear, facing Krimus directly.

The young man still wore a pitiful, miserable expression. Half his face was swollen high, and a large wound on his forehead—chewed by insects—oozed blood that had half-congealed on his skin.

Whenever their eyes met, Krimus forced a twitch at the corner of his mouth, as if attempting a smile.

After walking for an unknown time, One finally stopped.

“There’s light.”

It turned sideways, and Xie Jianxun squinted, only perceiving faint light after a while.

When they crawled out of the tunnel and saw daylight again, they discovered the entrance had been disguised as an Insect Clan burrow, concealed by scattered weeds.

Darkness fell before his eyes as One covered them.

Xie Jianxun obediently waited a moment before the Mechanical Puppet lowered its hand, as if afraid he might suffer any mishap.

“You’re so worried about me?” he teased deliberately, grabbing One’s hand. “My eyes are perfectly fine.”

One played along. “Yes, you’re the strongest.”

Delighted, Xie Jianxun pinched One’s fingers.

He looked around. The oasis was no longer visible, but ahead loomed the faint silhouette of human structures.

A mirage…? No, it shouldn’t be.

He immediately said, “There’s a camp over there! Let’s check it out.”

One tossed Krimus to the ground and climbed onto a rock to survey the distance. Krimus rolled once on the sand, pain shifting his internal organs, and he spat out several mouthfuls of grit.

Yet he had survived. He patted himself down—no new wounds. Secretly thrilled, he kept his expression hidden.

After observing for a moment, the Mechanical Puppet said, “There are indeed signs of human presence.”

Xie Jianxun understood its implication and shook his head. “We need to link up with people quickly, call for rescue. The Captain and the others… their situation is probably dire.”

One jumped down from the rock and approached Krimus.

The young man obediently raised his hands for the Mechanical Puppet to drag him, but he sneezed violently and asked pitifully, “Do you… have any water…?”

Xie Jianxun: “No! Bear with it.”

He held little goodwill toward this traitor and barely restrained himself from rolling his eyes—an impolite gesture.

Krimus: “You said there’s people ahead?”

Subconsciously, he moved his legs and suddenly felt a faint sensation in them!

Startled, Krimus inwardly rejoiced but kept his face impassive, pleading seamlessly, “Let’s hurry then. I’m so thirsty. They’ll give me some water…”

Thirsty and yet you talk so much? Xie Jianxun glared at him.

One glanced down and simply hoisted the man over its shoulder, speeding up their pace considerably.

The Mechanical Puppet’s hard shoulder dug into Krimus’s gut, which was uncomfortable. Acid churned in his stomach, threatening to make him vomit.

To test his suspicions, he pretended thirst and strained to lift his upper body, twisting to look ahead expectantly.

Sure enough, as they drew near, familiar architectural outlines appeared.

He nearly lost control of his expression, on the verge of laughing—the main camp! The Sand Bandits’ true stronghold! His familiar haunt. Once inside, Mr. Jack, the bandit leader, would surely save him and kill these two!

He could return to Golden City safe, sound, and innocent once more.

Suddenly, Xie Jianxun quickened his pace to walk beside him, shoulder-to-shoulder with One. “Hold on.”

This put him face-to-face with Krimus, who hurriedly adjusted his expression to avoid suspicion.

Xie Jianxun asked sternly, “What was that plan you mentioned? If you don’t spill it, not only no water—you’re dead right now!”

The Mechanical Puppet raised a brow, a smile tugging at its lips, and gave him a helpless glance.

…

The night sky was sparsely starred and cloudless, with occasional insect cries from afar.

The Joint Group was marched down from the clock tower. The Oasis Sand Bandits deliberately confined them to an open clearing with no cover, preventing any breakout attempts using shelters.

Jack checked his Light Brain. It was already three in the morning. Sunrise and rising temperatures would soon follow, then another scorching day.

Judging the weather fine—no wind fields nearby—it was ideal for long-distance travel. His mood was decent.

Antonio, the Adventure Group Captain, stood beside him, personally guarded by Jack, the leader.

He spoke up. “Excuse me, what about that young repairman?”

Jack dismissed him carelessly. “Who knows? He might live.”

Antonio glanced at him and fell silent.

“Don’t even think about resisting. You’ve seen our strength dwarfs yours. The Shock Rings are just to minimize trouble,” Jack said impatiently.

“Captain!”

Jesilisi pinched the Captain’s sturdy arm hard, yanking him back to reality.

Magm snapped to, murmuring softly, “They said Little Xun will live.”

Jesilisi opened his mouth, wanting to say that nonsense—even if he survived that fall, it wouldn’t be good… that height would leave him smashed… But he couldn’t voice it; it would fray everyone’s already taut nerves.

In the end, he could only mutter, “He’ll live.”

Over there, Jack called impatiently, “Has the convoy arrived?”

Nir obediently went to summon them. Soon, several massive boxy vehicles appeared.

These resembled off-roaders from the star systems but featured localized modifications for smooth desert travel.

The Oasis Sand Bandits eschewed the Joint Group’s Landship, using their own vehicles to avoid any escape aids hidden inside.

They were paranoid and distrustful, trusting only themselves.

That was normal for desert bandits.

“Move!”

At Jack’s command, dozens of Oasis Sand Bandits, guns and shock prods in hand, herded the Joint Group in lines onto the vehicles’ rear compartments.

Eighteen people crammed into a compartment like compressed sardines in a can.

Even so, it took six or seven vehicles.

Nir lit a cigarette, clamping it between his teeth.

He took the driver’s seat and mumbled indistinctly, “Good thing some died; otherwise, we couldn’t fit them all.”

Jack scanned coolly and ordered, “No more deaths from here on. Keep them alive.” He opened the passenger door—reserved for him—slammed it shut, rocking the vehicle.

“Yes!”

The Oasis Sand Bandits behind responded in unison.

With a roar, the vehicles started and chugged into the distance.

Nir flicked away his smoke and focused on driving for the boss. Suddenly, he heard Jack murmur softly, “The oasis still has loads of supplies. I left the warehouse key under my canteen—visible right upon waking.”

Nir didn’t know how to respond and stayed quiet.

“Will she think we abandoned her?” Jack mused to himself, then dismissed it. “Never mind. When we return, she’ll understand.”

The wheels carved two wide, deep tracks in the sand, swiftly departing the oasis.

Behind them, the Oasis Camp stood secured by its Defense Net, the shimmering silver barrier sealing it off from entry or exit.

But someone had witnessed it all.

Aisia knelt on her bed, her black braid draped over her chest, staring blankly as her uncle and the familiar group boarded the vehicles with the Joint Group members and left the oasis without looking back.

She had been awake the whole time.

Her small bed sat by the windowsill. The girl gazed through the glass at the now-empty clearing.

“Uncle…?” she murmured.

She hadn’t grasped what was happening, only that her uncle had taken a group—including the Joint Group—away in off-roaders.

Some urgent midnight errand?

Puzzled, Aisia lay back down, pulled up the covers, closed her eyes for a bit, then bolted upright. She hurriedly dressed, slipped on slippers, and ran outside.

Was the caravan leaving abruptly in the night again?

Her uncle had said she’d manage the oasis from now on, so she needed to know everything that happened here—including this.

This was her “New Mase”!

The girl dashed from her bedroom, but exhaustion weighed her down; her eyes barely stayed open.

She quickly fetched a basin of water and splashed herself awake. The desert night wind froze her alert instantly.

Without drying off, she left home with a dripping face, heading toward the clearing.

Passing buildings and skirting the clock tower, she suddenly heard groans and gasps.

Aisia tensed and ducked behind a building corner.

But the sounds were so real—not like desert ghost tales, but a young girl like her, injured on the ground, feebly awaiting death.

And the voice sounded familiar?

Hesitant, Aisia stepped out and entered the open space before the clock tower.

Several people lay scattered there haphazardly.

Some with wounds, some without; bullet casings, bullet marks, black blood seeping into the sand.

Oh god, the visitors from afar!

Aisia froze in the clearing, at a loss.

Her face drained pale, blood chilling and stagnating in her heart, nearly suffocating her—

What happened?

Were they dead…? What had they done wrong? Or was it a misunderstanding?

She rushed over, crouched to check: this one had no breath; the next was icy cold with faint respiration; that one too.

Dazed, as if soul-drained, Aisia staggered up. Her first instinct was to find her uncle, but she recalled seeing him drive away.

Did… Uncle do this?

Why else leave in the dead of night?!

“No…”

A trembling half-word escaped her lips. As her gaze shifted, it met the eyes of someone on the ground.

Oh god… someone was still conscious!

Aisia couldn’t name her emotions, only that a heavy stone crushed her heart.

She jogged over, knelt in the sand, and cradled the face—it was her new friend from the Joint Group, Gris. They’d moved supplies together, sat on the same bench grilling skewers outdoors.

Now, she lay dying too, her leg blasted open by gunpowder in a massive hole that surely meant amputation.

She was the only one lucid, eyes half-open.

Aisia couldn’t speak properly, repeating, “What happened? Why didn’t I know anything… Don’t be scared, I’ll save you, right now, I’ll save…”

Before she finished, a hand clamped her neck like steel claws.

Despite her leg agony, Gris was still a mercenary.

Her fingers gripped Aisia’s throat, thumb nail pressing her carotid.

Aisia recoiled in pain, hearing Gris’s slurred yet clear words, laced with hatred and agony: “Are you with them too?!”