Chapter 40: Opportunities Don’t Always Come Around

“First, have the communications engineer contact higher-ups and report our situation to the provincial office. Let’s see if we can get reinforcements—this one I’ll handle personally.

Second, speed up coordination with neighboring towns. Share what we know with them. Old He, you’re familiar with the local networks—take charge of this.

Third, the fire department personnel should organize immediately and begin incinerating the bodies in the Da’an city area. Li Deputy Town Chief will coordinate from the center.

Fourth, all administrative staff in offices must go frontline. Work around the clock, mobilizing capable civilians to assist the firefighting and security teams in the body-burning effort.

Fifth, set up temporary barriers at every entry and exit point into the town. The security system team will lead this, with Director Wang handling resource allocation and coordination.”

He finished speaking, glanced around, then turned to Deputy Town Chief He: “He Town Chief, anything you’d like to add?”

He responded instantly: “I fully support the Town Chief’s decision. Nothing to add.”

“Then proceed according to these directives. Comrades, we’re facing a life-or-death test. This is the moment to prove our agency’s strength. Stay on your posts—let’s get through this together.”

One by one, the others filed out of the office. Wang Xiaoqiang, seeing no immediate task for himself, followed the fire crew toward the city center. Less than twenty minutes later, he and his group entered Da’an City, advancing from the outskirts toward the core. At the same time, more citizens—drawn by the call—joined the firefighters, following their instructions as they began burning the corpses. From a quick glance, about a hundred people trailed behind. More hands meant faster progress. Once the burning started, everyone just went with it, no hesitation.

They hadn’t gone 400 meters when suddenly, at a crossroads, several corpses stood motionless, blocking the way. Everyone recoiled in shock. Wang Xiaoqiang grabbed the nearest firefighter—a captain from the fire brigade named Jiang.

“Cut off their heads,” he shouted over the noise. “Only that works. Hitting anywhere else won’t do anything.” Without another word, he stepped forward. A flash of steel, and the heads flew—one after another—before the bodies collapsed. The surrounding firefighters and civilians gasped. *Damn good technique.*

People are emotional creatures. When someone leads, emotions spread, and others follow blindly. Seeing the method work, courage surged through the crowd. Shovels, axes, hammers—every kind of tool came out.

Another thirty meters ahead, more standing corpses appeared. This time, Xiaoqiang didn’t move. The civilians charged in, beating the bodies to pulp. Xiaoqiang shook his head, gesturing clearly: *Decapitate them.*

By the time they’d pushed through two blocks, Xiaoqiang began noticing a pattern. The corpses that had risen were clustered near the blast site. Those farther out—over 600 to 700 meters away—hadn’t stirred yet. He relayed this insight to Captain Jiang, who passed it along to nearby residents. The pace picked up noticeably. After about two hours, they’d advanced 800 meters.

Meanwhile, reports poured in from other nearby towns and villages. Teams were already assembling to start incinerating bodies. On the map, five sharp points—like blades—began converging on Da’an City from the north. In total, over two thousand people joined the effort.

Night fell. For safety, everyone gradually withdrew from the city. After a full afternoon of work, the towns collectively cleared an estimated fifty thousand corpses.

Xiaoqiang headed straight back to the orphanage. He gathered Lao Wang, Dafu, Xue Bin, and Nuonuo. The four of them drove to the shooting range valley.

When they arrived, Xiaoqiang reset the target to 400 meters. The sky had darkened. Visibility dropped. He used his phone’s flashlight to illuminate the target. On a stump beside him sat a pistol, five magazines, and one sniper round.

Sitting cross-legged on the stump, Xiaoqiang said: “Life doesn’t hand you chances every day. When one comes, if you don’t grab it—you might miss it forever.” Then he closed his eyes and began meditating.

Xue Bin thought hard about those words. He picked up the pistol, emptied five magazines—about twenty rounds—most hitting dead center. Then he returned to the stump, lifted the sniper rifle, and took aim.

Xiaoqiang was deep in his own world when suddenly, a smooth, melodic voice cut through the air—like music slicing through silence. His eyes snapped open. On the distant target, right in the red bullseye, a clean hole. Xiaoqiang’s lips curled slightly. He ruffled Xue Bin’s hair. “Remember how that felt. Repeat that rhythm.” Then he stood, leading the group back to the orphanage.

Xiaoqiang knew deep down that Xue Bin’s talent was extraordinary. But he needed a real teacher. Where could he find one? This town had no shooting culture, no training facilities, nothing. After thinking long and hard, he decided: *Let Lao Wang look into it.*

When dawn broke, after yesterday’s bloodshed, Xiaoqiang felt something new in his use of the blade. If before it had been theory on paper, now it was starting to feel like real mastery. In the thick fog, energy flowed within him. With each breath, the air trembled—almost as if resonating with his inner pulse. As he shifted his stance lightly, the mist swirled around him, drawn like magnetism toward his form. Slowly, the fog gathered faster, swirling like a vortex. Below, the others stopped and looked up. Xiaoqiang, shrouded in mist, seemed like a tiny pump sucking in the vapor.

Today, his blade-light was denser than ever—forming a complete sphere of shimmering steel, visible only as a glowing orb. The first light of morning spilled across the land. The fog thinned, dissipated. Xiaoqiang ended his practice, standing still.

He didn’t fully understand what had happened—but he *felt* it. Inside him, his energy pulsed like a ring. And in the center… something like a black hole. Things from outside—faint, almost invisible—were being pulled in, consumed. He opened his eyes. A faint glint sparkled deep within them.

Suddenly, a stench so foul it nearly knocked him unconscious. If yesterday’s smell was bad, today was *worse*. It wasn’t just rotten—it was *evil*. Xiaoqiang bolted downstairs, rushed to take a shower. The others in the yard caught the scent too—nauseating, unbearable.

Everyone noticed the change today. No one had paid much attention before to what Xiaoqiang did up on the roof. But now, something was different. There was a secret—something tied to his training. And whatever it was, it was changing him.