47: beacon

The battle-axe Xing Zhan held high reflected the light of death under the pale lamps.

The target was A Yong's outstretched right arm.

There were no roars, no sound of wind, only a suffocating silence.

Then, the battle-axe swung down.

"Squelch!"

It wasn't the crisp sound of bone shattering, but the dull sound of a sharp blade slicing into flesh. The edge of the High-Frequency Battle-Axe met no resistance at all, severing A Yong's entire right arm cleanly from the shoulder joint.

The severed arm flew into the air and then fell heavily, bouncing twice on the cold metal platform like a useless piece of rotten meat.

Intense pain engulfed A Yong's consciousness like a tsunami; his vision went dark, and he nearly fainted. But using the last shred of strength in his soul, he gritted his teeth and did not let out a single scream.

Blood gushed from the massive wound, staining the restraint frame red.

A Yong's head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto the figure standing as still as a stone statue below the platform.

"Reno!" he bellowed with the last of his life, "Remember our promise to the West District Sentry Tower!"

This desperate roar was like a heavy hammer, slamming hard against everyone's hearts.

For the first time, Xing Zhan's brow furrowed tightly. His meticulously designed, artistic "educational lesson" had been defiled by this nonsensical last word. A promise? West District Sentry Tower? What was that?

This wasn't supposed to be part of the script.

"A promise?" Below the platform, a Guard Team confidant standing beside Reno subconsciously repeated, his eyes full of confusion. "What promise do we have to the West District Sentry Tower?"

"Shut up!" another veteran member barked in a low voice, his voice carrying an uncontrollable tremble.

Only Reno himself knew.

His body jerked violently in that instant, as if struck by invisible lightning. The West District Sentry Tower... that was their secret base where they used to raid bird nests and hide contraband when they were still kids in diapers. A place that belonged only to their childhood and was utterly meaningless now.

A Yong was using his life to cover for the real secret.

Overwhelming grief-stricken rage and his brother's clear-headed dying instructions intertwined in his mind like a bloody storm. He understood; A Yong hadn't given up, not for a single second.

"It seems your mouth is tougher than your bones." Xing Zhan's voice turned cold; he was provoked.

He felt his "performance" had been ruined by a lowly Mine Slave. He spoke no more, for no words could wash away this humiliation.

He raised the battle-axe, silently and efficiently.

"Squelch!"

The left arm.

"Squelch!"

The right leg.

The square was terrifyingly silent, leaving only the wail of the wind blowing across the open ground and the heavy, almost suffocating breathing of thousands of people. Blood flowed freely on the platform, gathering into pools of glaring red that dripped and pattered onto the ground from the platform's edge.

In the crowd, Chen Feng forced himself to look away. He couldn't look at A Yong; if he looked any longer, he feared he would lose control too.

His gaze locked onto the faces of the Scavenger members in the rows behind Xing Zhan. He noticed that even among these battle-hardened butchers, a few had eyes that shifted slightly or showed subtle discomfort while witnessing such pure, non-tactical slaughter.

Chen Feng memorized those few faces.

On the platform, A Yong's life force was like a flickering candle in the wind.

Xing Zhan carried the dripping battle-axe and slowly walked up to him, gently pressing the tip of the blade against his heart.

"Regrettably, your 'duty' ends here." Xing Zhan's voice was low, like a lover's whisper, yet it carried a devilish cruelty. "Now, you may rest in peace."

He slowly applied pressure, and the sharp tip of the axe pierced the skin, sinking into the chest.

A Yong's body convulsed violently one last time, his head slumped powerlessly, and the last light in his eyes was completely extinguished.

"Hmph." Xing Zhan gave a disdainful cold snort, as if throwing away a toy he was bored with. He raised his foot and kicked A Yong's broken torso hard off the platform.

The corpse tumbled and slammed heavily onto the cold ground.

Xing Zhan turned around and looked down from his high position at the expressionless Reno, a contemptuous, patronizing smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

"Go," he said in a tone used for ordering servants. "Clean up your trash. Don't let it dirty my square."

As he spoke, he seemed to remember something and casually tore a greasy, tattered rag off a nearby piece of equipment, throwing it contemptuously at Reno's feet.

"Use this. Wipe it clean."

The humiliation had reached its peak.

Reno did not speak. He silently bent over, picked up the tattered rag, and then took stiff steps, walking down from the platform one step at a time.

Several of his confidants immediately surrounded him. Without a word, they used their bodies to form a human wall, blocking the view from the platform.

Reno knelt beside A Yong's broken corpse.

He reached out, wanting to close his brother's eyes, which had died without peace.

Just as his palm covered A Yong's face, which had already lost its warmth, he suddenly felt the fingers of A Yong's still-intact left hand, which lay on the ground, move with a final neural reflex, tracing something extremely faintly and quickly across his palm.

Once, then again.

A circle, with three vertical lines at the bottom.

Reno's pupils constricted suddenly.

That was the emergency assembly point code agreed upon within their Guard Team, known only to core members, representing Abandoned Power Pump Station No. 3.

A Yong... he actually held on until the end, using his final neural reflex to complete the transmission of information.

Slowly, using all the strength in his body, Reno picked up A Yong's broken corpse.

He stood up.

He didn't cry, and there was no expression on his face, but in those eyes, all the wavering, struggle, pain, and confusion were completely frozen at this moment.

All that remained was hatred and determination as cold as ten-thousand-year-old ice.

His gaze crossed the terrified crowd and met the gaze of the equally silent Chen Feng in the distance for a split second.

A pact of vengeance was officially forged in the silence.