207: Chapter 207 Undercurrent Stronghold

The newly acquired map in his embrace seemed to carry the warmth of the old man's fingertips and a heavy sense of trust, while the leaden-gray sky to the southeast, marked as the "edge of the Dark Nest radiation zone," loomed like the shadow of a hibernating beast, silently exuding a sense of oppression.

Impulsiveness is a hunter's poison.

Ling Ye knew very well that rushing into that abandoned pipeline and heading straight for the edge of the "Dark Nest," based solely on an unverified map and the fragmented intelligence observed by the old man, would be tantamount to throwing himself into the thickest darkness.

He needed more information; he needed a more intuitive and real-time grasp of the dynamics around the "Dark Nest," the activity patterns of the military (and the "Plainclothes Agents"), and the actual situation at the entrance to that pipeline.

He needed a forward observation post, a temporary stronghold that could both temporarily avoid street patrols and scattered Mutants, and effectively monitor the target area.

Zhao Haichuan's tenement building had been disturbed by gunfire and was no longer safe.

He quickly recalled the markings on the old man's hand-drawn map.

Between the tenement building and the "Dark Nest" radiation zone, there were roughly two main streets and a low-lying Warehouse district.

On the map, in the northwest corner of that Warehouse district, near a dry old drainage ditch, Zhao Haichuan had lightly drawn a small triangle with a pencil, annotated beside it: "Old Water Treatment Observation Post, three-story brick-concrete structure, decent view, solid structure, concealed side door, no signs of recent activity."

That was the place.

With his goal clear, Ling Ye did not delay any longer.

Like a gray shadow blending into the city ruins, he used crumbling walls, abandoned vehicles, and mountains of trash as cover, avoiding directions from which the occasional hiss of Mutants or the sound of human arguments came, and moved rapidly and stealthily toward the southeast.

The streets were a scene of devastation.

Shattered display windows, overturned buses, burnt-out shops, and dried bloodstains and traces of combat were visible everywhere.

Some walls were daubed with slogans for help or crooked arrows pointing toward "safe zones" that no longer existed.

Besides the smell of burning and blood, the air occasionally carried the sweet, cloying scent of decaying corpses.

Sporadic gunfire and explosions could be faintly heard from different directions of the city, reminding one that the chaos continued.

He encountered two groups of scattered survivors, both in threes or fives, raggedly dressed, with vigilant yet numb eyes; seeing him pass by quickly with a rifle on his back, they all avoided him from a distance, not daring to provoke him.

He also caught a glimpse from afar of a military patrol vehicle driving along the main road, a machine gun mounted on its roof, soldiers fully armed, scanning the streets coldly, but they did not enter the deep alleys of this ruin.

It seemed that the military's control was mainly concentrated on the main roads and established settlement points; for these peripheral, ruined areas, they were temporarily unable or unwilling to fully clear them, only maintaining minimal patrols and deterrence.

About twenty minutes later, Ling Ye passed through the last alley piled with construction waste, and the view before him suddenly opened up—a relatively empty wasteland, bordered by rusted barbed wire.

In the center of the wasteland stood a solitary, three-story brick-concrete building with mottled exterior walls.

The building was square, with narrow windows, and on the top was a small brick structure resembling a watchtower, facing the southeast.

On the side of the building was a concrete path almost submerged by weeds, leading to a rusted green iron side door.

Behind the building was that old, long-dried, weed-choked drainage ditch.

This was the "Old Water Treatment Observation Post."

The location was remote, the view was wide (especially from the roof), the structure was independent, and the side door was concealed—it met the basic requirements for a temporary stronghold.

Ling Ye did not approach immediately.

He lay behind a pile of discarded tires at the edge of the wasteland, observing carefully with binoculars.

The small building was quiet; all the windows were tightly closed, and most of the glass was intact but covered in dust.

The building showed no obvious damage or signs of recent activity.

The padlock on the side door was severely rusted.

In the open space in front of the building, there was only the rustling of wind through the weeds and the faint city clamor in the distance.

He extended his "Energy Perception," but detected no obvious life signs or "inconsistent" energy fluctuations.

It was very quiet, perhaps too quiet.

But the more so, the more cautious he needed to be.

He circled to the side and back of the small building, approaching quietly from the slope of the drainage ditch, avoiding the open ground in front.

Arriving at the side door, he checked the padlock.

The lock was an old-fashioned pin tumbler lock, rusted so badly it was almost welded to the door frame.

He did not try to pick the lock, but stepped back a few paces to observe the building's structure.

The building's exterior walls were rough, with many brick joints and protruding corners.

He put away the binoculars, slung the rifle securely onto his back, took a deep breath, and using both hands and feet, began to climb barehanded like a nimble ape.

The brick joints provided sufficient handholds, and although they were slippery, it was not too difficult for his current level of body control.

He chose to climb up the shaded side of the building, avoiding potential lines of sight, and moved upward rapidly.

A dozen seconds later, he climbed onto the windowsill of a second-story window.

The window was latched from the inside, but the putty around the glass edges had long since dried and cracked.

He carefully inserted the tip of his military knife into the window gap and gently nudged the latch.

After a slight "click," the latch slid open.

He pushed open the window, and a breeze carrying the stale smell of dust and a faint residual scent of disinfectant rushed into his face.

Inside was a narrow stairwell, cluttered with some damaged chairs, tables, and tools.

He climbed in silently and closed the window behind him.

The stairwell was dim, with only a faint light filtering in from an air vent high up.

He drew his military knife and listened intently.

Dead silence.

Only his own heartbeat and breathing.

He slowly moved upward along the dust-covered stairs.

The first floor seemed to have been the former equipment room and duty room; the doors were all open, and the inside was empty, save for some abandoned pipes and valves.

There were no signs of recent human activity.

The second floor consisted of several offices and storage rooms, also vacant, with filing cabinets toppled over and papers scattered everywhere, covered in thick dust.

The air was stagnant.

He continued upward to the third floor.

This seemed to have been the former monitoring room and lounge area, with a relatively open space and a row of windows facing southeast, offering an excellent view.

Although the window glass was dirty, through it, one could clearly see the outline of the old Industrial Zone in the distance, marked by Zhao Haichuan as the "Dark Nest radiation zone"—several tall, long-defunct factory buildings, huge chimneys standing silently under the leaden-gray sky, and between the factory buildings were crisscrossing pipe galleries and empty storage yards.

Further away, there seemed to be simple walls and barbed wire, but they were not very clear.

This was the place.

Ling Ye did not go to the window immediately but first quickly checked the entire third floor.

Apart from dust and broken furniture, there were no other discoveries.

In a corner with his back to the window, near the inner wall, he found a relatively clean spot shielded by a load-bearing pillar, to serve as a temporary "safe point."

He put down his backpack and rifle.

Only then did he carefully crawl under the window with the best view, using the windowsill as cover, exposing only half of his face and the binoculars, and looked toward the Industrial Zone.

The distance was about one kilometer.

No pedestrians could be seen on the streets on the outskirts of the Industrial Zone, only scattered abandoned vehicles.

But at the entrances to several main thoroughfares, he saw roadblocks set up with sandbags and barbed wire, as well as military jeeps parked behind the roadblocks, with soldiers standing guard beside the vehicles.

Security was tight.

Deep in the Industrial Zone, in the open spaces between those factory buildings, he saw more signs of activity.

Several box trucks painted in camouflage, but without obvious military markings, were moving slowly.

Some personnel wearing gray or black plain clothes, but whose movements showed traces of being well-trained, were entering and exiting some factory entrances, seemingly holding instruments in their hands.

They kept their distance from the soldiers on guard, neither interfering with the other, yet they were clearly in some kind of "cooperative" state.

It was the "Plainclothes Agents" Zhao Haichuan had mentioned!

They were indeed active here!

And, it seemed they had formed some kind of tacit understanding with the military—the military controlled the perimeter, and they went deep inside?

Ling Ye adjusted the focus of the binoculars, trying to see the details of the people's equipment, but the distance and the dirty glass affected the clarity.

He could only roughly make out that the instruments they were carrying had antennas and screens, and they seemed to be conducting detection or scanning.

Suddenly, deep in the Industrial Zone, near the side of the tallest factory building, a burst of extremely short but exceptionally piercing dark blue light flashed!

The light flashed and vanished, like some kind of energy pulse.

Immediately afterward, a low roar, as if from heavy machinery starting up, came from that area, lasting for about a dozen seconds before stopping.

Dark blue light! Related to the "abyssal eye"!

Ling Ye's heartbeat quickened slightly.

Was that the core area of the "Dark Nest"?

What were those "Plainclothes Agents" doing? What equipment had they started? Or rather... were they trying to control or utilize something there?

He continued to observe.

The dark blue light did not appear again, but the activities of those "Plainclothes Agents" seemed to have become more frequent, with several groups beginning to assemble rapidly toward the factory building where the light had appeared.

At the same time, the soldiers on the perimeter also visibly increased their vigilance, and the machine gunner behind the roadblock adjusted the direction of his gun barrel.

The atmosphere suddenly became tense.

Just at this moment, the luminous hands on the dial of the old-fashioned mechanical watch Ling Ye was wearing, which he had almost forgotten, suddenly flickered extremely faintly but clearly!

It was not the constant glow of luminous material, but an instantaneous flicker as if excited by a weak electric current.

At the same time, the "Ancient Ring" mark deep within his Soul also emitted an extremely slight fluctuation, carrying a trace of vigilance and repulsion.

The "xuanyuan ring" on his right hand also seemed to have its faint light flow and accelerate slightly.

Something was wrong! It was not coming from the Industrial Zone in the distance, but... from closer by!

Or rather, was it some kind of large-scale, subtle energy disturbance that had been sensed by the "dual rings"?

Ling Ye immediately lowered his body, scanning the surroundings of the small building and the wasteland below vigilantly.

The wasteland was still empty, with only the wind blowing through the grass.

But with his "Energy Perception" fully activated, he faintly caught that in the southeast direction, not just from the Industrial Zone, but seemingly centered on a certain point in the Industrial Zone, an extremely thin but cold "inconsistent" information field was slowly spreading out like ripples in water.

This feeling was similar to the pressure of the "abyssal eye" at the B7 core, but more "dispersed" and "inert," as if it were not being actively released, but rather some kind of "leakage" or "aftermath."