Chapter 309: Death Sahara (2)

“As expected, everyone on camera is one of ours.”

Wang Pengpai said cheerfully, even flashing a peace sign, though his words were anything but charitable.

“The West District is useless. So useless they can’t even make it into their own livestream, and they think they can snatch a Latitude 30 Degrees journey? Ah, what? Oh, my apologies, I’m being too broad. I mean specifically the West District Butcher Alliance and the Werewolf Alliance. Every last one of them is absolutely, thoroughly useless, spineless, garbage; the lot.”

By the time Wang Pengpai had repeated that in Mandarin, northeastern dialect, and Minnan dialect, the viewership had shot up to over six hundred thousand. More than the Xiangxi, Northern Tibet, and Beijing Suburbs journeys combined, and still climbing fast.

Plenty of those were West District viewers flooding in to protest; others were shouting their enthusiasm, saying this was exactly how the number one Tour Team should carry itself. East District viewers split between those who felt reassured seeing the Return group, those furiously denouncing the West District’s shamelessness, and those anxiously asking about Dreamchaser’s condition.

Dreamchaser was, without question, the Tour Guide with the best reputation across the East District and arguably the entire Agency. Whether Tourists who feared Tour Guides, those who idolized them, or those who simply held them in wary respect, everyone had a favorable impression of him. In terms of public standing, the combined reputations of the Puppeteer, the Puppet Master, the Devourer, Black Widow, and the Lizard Duke still wouldn’t outweigh Dreamchaser’s alone.

None of that occupied anyone’s attention right now, though. As for being “livestreamed,” no one in the group was particularly bothered. Bai Xiaosheng even remarked calmly:

“Tracking the peak viewership of this broadcast will be useful for estimating the Agency’s total population.”

When you were strong enough, it didn’t matter if your enemies knew you were coming for them. They still couldn’t escape.

And at that moment, Wei Xun received a notification from the Agency.

【Tourist Wei Xun, would you like to block the Agency livestream? Yes / No】

The broadcast authority for this stream had been handed to the Agency itself; not even the West District people who had initiated it could shut it down, nor could Return’s group. But Wei Xun had received a prompt. A moment’s thought told him why. it was one of the Mutual Aid Alliance’s rules taking effect.

【Rule 7: Mutual Aid Alliance members, when in possession of, fused with, or making use of objects connected to Latitude 30 Degrees journeys, may block the Agency’s observation. (Hidden rule; available to Knights and above.)】

As the Mutual Aid Alliance’s President, every rule of the Alliance applied to Wei Xun. He had of course brought both the human-skin map and Boss Maggot’s cocoon on this trip, and his possession of Latitude 30 Degrees-connected items had triggered the Agency’s observation block.

The others in the car who currently shared access to this rule were Zhang Xingcang, for whom Dreamchaser had forcibly bought in this privilege, and An Xuefeng, who had randomly received it when he rose to Adjudicator rank through sheer improbable fortune. Wei Xun glanced at “Wan Xiangchun.” He and Zhang Xingcang were both currently visible on the livestream. clearly, they were holding this card back for the right moment.

Block the Agency’s attention at a critical instant, then deliver the decisive blow.

At that same moment, An Xuefeng was looking at Wei Xun. By the Agency’s logic, Wei Xun should actually have been quite likely to appear on the broadcast. What made footage “compelling”? Wei Xun was the only new member Return had taken in over the past several years? wasn’t that compelling? The Agency knew Wei Xun also had a dual identity as Bing-1? wasn’t that compelling?

Especially compared to the “old guard” among them, the Agency would absolutely want to feature the newcomer. It tended to take an interest in distinctive Tourists: the way the youngest, Mao Xiao Le, or the only woman in Return, Lu Shucheng, had always drawn Agency camera attention far more often than the others.

By An Xuefeng’s reckoning, he and Wang Yushu had both disguised themselves, which guaranteed they’d appear on camera. Bai Xiaosheng was Return’s resident strategist and most plans ran through him; he’d appear. Yin-Yang Butterfly was a Butcher Tour Guide accompanying a Return group; he’d appear. Zhang Xingcang had a direct connection to the Sahara situation, he’d appear.

Beyond those five, there were two more spots. Wang Pengpai was Return’s Vice-Captain; that was reason enough. But thinking with the perspective of someone invested in the narrative, An Xuefeng suspected that Half-Life Daoist, once a rising new star Tourist, then years of struggle, now staking everything on a comeback, carried the kind of “compelling” story the Agency liked.

And the other person who most warranted a camera was Return’s new member Wei Xun. Mao Xiao Le, honestly, had passed his peak moment of novelty. He’d turned nineteen, adulthood but not particularly young anymore, no pregnancy and no injury and no longer a newcomer; the story of him killing Butcher Tour Guides had been covered so many times it had lost its heat.

So why was Mao Xiao Le on camera, and not Wei Xun?

“Don’t worry, it’s a minor thing.”

An Xuefeng squeezed Wei Xun’s hand, his voice easy.

“Are you all right?”

Wei Xun and An Xuefeng exchanged a look. The moderate bond really did make a difference; Wei Xun caught An Xuefeng’s meaning in an instant.

“I’m not that fragile.”

Wei Xun said firmly.

“I came to the Sahara to put myself through something. I want that.”

Understood. Wei Xun wasn’t invoking the Mutual Aid Alliance’s rule either.

There was no need to, unless…

An Xuefeng looked at Mao Xiao Le, who was in the front passenger seat, polishing his own peachwood sword. Wang Pengpai, holder of the orange title Old Driver, was in the front passenger seat of the first vehicle acting as a guide.

Front passenger seat. Closest to the driver.

The compelling footage was probably going to happen right there.

They exchanged a few brief words, and then everyone fell quiet; some closed their eyes to rest lightly, others attended to their weapons, each settling into their own state of readiness. Mauritania had few tall buildings; on both sides of the road to Adrar stretched an unbroken, desolate desert.

The road conditions varied wildly; sometimes reasonable, sometimes nothing but sandy dirt track with the vehicle pitching and jolting as though crossing a field of loose gravel. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] Anyone with even mild motion sickness would have struggled. Beyond the jolting, the heat was almost unbearable. The wind and sand had gotten bad enough that the windows were sealed shut; with no air conditioning, the interior was like a steam basket. It was noon now, the hottest point of the day. The “small ferret” in Wei Xun’s arms had flopped belly-up from the heat, panting with its tongue out like a small dog.

“I’ve got something cold, want some, Wei Xun?”

Mao Xiao Le turned around, both concerned for Wei Xun and for the ferret.

“At this rate it’ll still be a good half day of driving; even if things go smoothly we’re not reaching the destination before six in the evening.”

“Contacting a local helicopter company and flying in would be faster.”

Wang Pengpai, hearing them discuss it, let out a complaint through the earpiece.

“In this weather you can fly somewhere very unpleasant.”

As he said it, the sky outside had grown heavier and darker; the reddish-yellow dust made it look like dusk, and conditions showed every sign of deteriorating further. A sandstorm was coming — not an ordinary one, but the terrifying Harmattan wind that could desiccate living things into dried husks.

“Thanks.”

Wei Xun accepted the cold water. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] He was seated directly behind the driver, and “Wan Xiangchun” relayed it across. As the handoff happened, Wei Xun noticed that with the ease of something entirely incidental, Mao Xiao Le’s little finger had traced a line across the back of “Wan Xiangchun”‘s hand.

Some kind of signal?

Whatever it was, Wei Xun was certain it had something to do with the driver.

And yes, Wei Xun had known the driver was a problem from the moment they met. Wang Pengpai had called them trusted contacts from outside the danger zone, but Badou and Sonova were complete strangers to Wei Xun. With his suspicious and cautious nature, he had tucked the Responsibility Demonic Insect and the third-generation Ladybug into the Demonic Insect Sphere before they even left the airport.

The third-generation Ladybug could read a person’s Responsibility and Joy values. The Responsibility Demonic Insect could gradually make those around it feel accountable to him. But what had caught Wei Xun’s attention most keenly was that the moment they met Badou and Sonova, the Responsibility Demonic Insect had quietly communicated something to him: fragrant.

The Responsibility Demonic Insect’s “father,” the Joy Demonic Insect, loved to eat corpses of all kinds, with a particular fondness for living corpses. The Responsibility Demonic Insect had inherited that taste, though Wei Xun had always fed it on high-grade Abyss energy and it had never actually eaten a corpse before.

It found Badou and Sonova fragrant. Which meant these two were already corpses, possibly living ones.

A normal contact from outside the danger zone, in the real world; a living corpse? Impossible. Both of them were without question compromised.

“The Harmattan is almost here.”

Wei Xun took the cold water, tucked it against the “ferret,” coughed twice, and pressed a hand over his nose.

“The air is so dry.”

“You’ll get used to it with more experience.”

“An Xuefeng”‘s voice came through the earpiece; Wang Yushu was performing with full commitment, delivering the line with all the casual confidence of someone who could say this kind of thing without blinking.

“Don’t worry about it, Wei Xun. With me here, you can kill whoever you want.”

He paused, then let his voice drop slightly.

“Wei Xun, stay close to me. Don’t make me worry.”

The oiliness of it left both cars’ occupants briefly speechless.

“Ugh— cough cough cough, the wind is so harsh, I mean the wind—”

Half-Life Daoist had been suppressing something for so long he nearly choked on it; after a prolonged coughing fit he barely managed to hold it together and turned his head.

“Wei Xun, young eagles do have to leave the nest eventually, so when we get there, you and I should—”

He didn’t finish. He saw “Wan Xiangchun” accept the Madman’s Killing Blade from Wei Xun’s hands and begin to hone it, while Wei Xun watched beside him, the two of them leaning so close together their heads were almost touching.

Present yourself properly! Have some awareness!

Half-Life Daoist screamed internally, and was momentarily tempted to open the livestream just to look away.

This was bad. Return’s battlefield of interpersonal drama might be gaining a new participant.

“Stay alert.”

Yin-Yang Butterfly, hearing “An Xuefeng”‘s line, felt a chill run through him first, followed by something genuinely curious. Was this really how An Xuefeng and Wei Xun operated when they were together in Return?

Otherwise, how would Wang Yushu know to impersonate him like that?

Strange. [Read on RanaTranslations🌸] The more he thought about it, the stranger it became. Strange enough that Yin-Yang Butterfly’s thoughts were almost derailing, but he was also the most watchful and serious-minded person in the vehicle. The two butterfly antennae at his temples trembled faintly, and his voice came through the earpiece to everyone at once.

“I’m sensing a weather anomaly. The Harmattan arrives in ten minutes. Find somewhere to stop immediately.”

He was still not entirely comfortable communicating with the Return group, so after the brief recommendation he added something to Wei Xun too:

“Wei Xun, come to my side when we stop.”

He hesitated, seeming to feel his commanding tone was too blunt, and the usually intimidating Yin-Yang Butterfly actually softened his voice a little. “The Tour Guide’s side is the safest. Come to me… someone asked me to look after you.”

The collective expressions across both vehicles defied description. What was this, some kind of surrogate romance for a new arrival? An Xuefeng fussing warmly, the usually distant Wan Xiangchun patiently fielding questions, Half-Life Daoist and Yin-Yang Butterfly competing to be by his side; they had completely bewildered even the drivers and whoever was pulling their strings.

But the exchanges just now had all carried specific meaning. When Wei Xun and An Xuefeng had put their heads together over the Madman’s Killing Blade, An Xuefeng had conveyed to Wei Xun that he was reserving the opportunity to finish off the drivers as a first kill for Wei Xun. Drivers who had been turned into living corpses by a Tour Guide’s title were technically Abyss creatures; good material for building up the Madman’s Killing Blade’s stacked effect.

Yin-Yang Butterfly’s warning about the Harmattan arriving in ten minutes was real intelligence. An Xuefeng had tapped Wei Xun’s palm once, which meant: ten seconds, then move.

Ten seconds from now, strike simultaneously. Kill the drivers.

Hollowed-out shells had no value as sources of information.

Five seconds had already passed.

Five.

“Ha, ha ha; no wonder An has his eye on you, Wei Xun. You really do have talent.”

In the second vehicle, the driver who had until now been chatting with Half-Life Daoist received a command from whoever was controlling him and turned to engage Wei Xun.

Four.

“Everyone at Return has been very kind to me. I still have a long way to go.”

Wei Xun said modestly.

Three.

“You’re a rising star Tourist; so hardworking. The rest of us ordinary people can barely keep up,” Badou said admiringly, and then his tone turned curious.

Two.

“Speaking of which, West District people almost never get to see East District journey footage. Wei Xun, how did you manage to become a rising star Tourist? Would you tell us?”

One.

“Well, it’s because—”

The jet-black blade, glowing with the pale green light of resentful souls, moved without a sound and took Badou’s head off.

In the instant the blade struck, Wei Xun felt a strange resonance; the same sensation he had felt the first time in Northern Tibet, when he had detected the puppet threads inside Pinocchio’s head.

He felt it again when he took Badou’s head.

There were no puppet threads in Badou’s skull. What there was instead was a piece of rotting flesh. The rot was not weak; for an instant it actually tried to devour his blade in return. But in that same moment Wei Xun flooded it with waves of mental pollution.

“Aaahh—!!”

An instant later, Wei Xun heard a scream coming from somewhere impossibly far away, and in that moment he knew the controller’s identity. A West District Tour Guide: A-10, the Cannibal Witch.

The instant Wei Xun’s blade moved, the livestream camera that had been following Mao Xiao Le shifted to him. Every viewer in the stream watched as Badou’s hollowed-out head dropped away, and the rotting flesh on the tip of Wei Xun’s blade writhed and convulsed in a frantic but useless attempt to escape. The decisive kill in that single instant sent a jolt through every person watching.

Into the stunned silence that followed, Wei Xun’s voice drifted through the livestream, reaching every listener’s ears:

“Me? I just really love killing Tour Guides.”