Chapter 5: Beneath the City Wall, Everyone Gambles with Their Lives
Dawn broke the next day.
There was no gentle rooster crow to herald the morning in L City Bastion. Instead, the city was filled with a mechanical hum and the synchronized sound of marching footsteps. The shading net framework that had shrouded the city for decades slowly slid open, and the thick alloy panels shifted aside inch by inch. Thin but real daylight spilled down, barely piercing the perpetually grey sky above this besieged city.
After a night of rest, the oppressive atmosphere within the city had not dissipated. Instead, with the new cycle of day and night, it grew even heavier.
Lin Yan walked out of the stairwell of the temporary shelter.
The air in the stairwell carried a faint scent of exhaustion. Throughout the night, almost no one in the shelter had slept peacefully. Some were reviewing combat techniques in low voices, some were repeatedly reading the assessment guidelines, and some sat in silent meditation, trying to stabilize their minds just a fraction more before the exam.
Everyone was afraid.
Afraid of failure, afraid of being eliminated, afraid of damaging their Sea of Consciousness, and even more afraid that if they missed this chance, they would be trapped in the mud of bottom-tier logistics for the rest of their lives.
Lin Yan went downstairs and collected his standard breakfast in the first-floor cafeteria.
A hard compressed multigrain cake, a small tube of nutritional paste, and a rationed amount of purified water. There was no flavor to speak of; it was purely fuel to maintain bodily functions.
The cafeteria was massive, filled with hundreds of unregistered newcomers staying temporarily. Yet, the large hall was completely silent. No one laughed or played around; everyone ate quickly with their heads bowed, their eyes blank, anxious, or tense.
This was the norm of the post-Cataclysm world.
Comfort was a luxury, and relaxation was a fatal weakness. Every moment of being alive had to be spent preparing for the danger of the next moment.
Lin Yan finished eating in a few bites and turned to leave the cafeteria.
He had no intention of wandering through the residential areas today.
He was going to the true frontline—the base of the city wall.
He wanted to see with his own eyes how this bastion's so-called "stability" was bought; how many people the so-called "risks of the assessment" had buried; and where the true desperate situation of humanity in this world was hidden.
...
Walking from the residential shelter area toward the city wall defense line, there was a visible dividing line of atmosphere.
The further forward he went, the wider the streets became, and the harder the buildings grew.
The residential buildings with their warmth of daily life completely disappeared, replaced entirely by heavy military-industrial architecture. The exterior walls were made of thickened blast-proof concrete with embedded alloy frames. There were no extra windows, only narrow observation slits and ventilation shafts. There were no shops, street vendors, or training squares on the roadside. Instead, there were armories, war reserve supply yards, casualty reception stations, Sea of Consciousness recovery centers, and emergency quarantine zones.
The smell in the air had completely changed.
There was no aroma of food, no worldly bustle, only the cold scent of metal, the pungent smell of disinfectant, and a faint, lingering stench of rot.
It was the scent of alien species from outside the wall, lingering in the wind. It was the smell of war and death.
The pedestrians on the streets had completely changed as well.
There were no leisurely civilians, no naive students. Everyone coming and going was a frontline garrison soldier clad in armor and carrying weapons. They walked briskly, in strict formation, their eyes as sharp as blades. Every sweep of their gaze across the street was an instinctive vigilance honed by years of bathing in blood and surviving life-and-death struggles.
There was no life here, only preparation for war.
...
A few minutes later, the colossal, boundless giant wall pressed entirely into his field of vision.
A hundred-meter-high wall stretched across the earth, severing mountains and rivers, blocking out the horizon.
This was not an imitation ancient wall; it was an apocalyptic bastion built by humanity over twenty-five years of national power, resources, and human lives. Layers of alloy steel plates were superimposed and poured, with countless welding seams covering the wall in dense layers, old and new intertwined. Dense arrays of gun muzzles, energy defense systems, psychic shielding devices, and surveillance probes covered every inch of the wall.
On the wall itself, claw marks, impact scars, and corrosion traces of varying depths were layered upon one another.
The shallow ones were left by small scaled beasts climbing and tearing; the deep ones were the terrifying marks of high-level alien species ramming the wall. Some massive concave cracks even spanned several meters, later forcibly filled and repaired by human hands.
Every single mark was a testament to a bloody battle where humanity stood its ground to the death.
Above the wall, sentries patrolled back and forth. Their figures were as small as ants, yet they were firmly nailed to the very front of the defense line.
On the other side of the wall was the entire fallen wasteland, endless rifts, and the infinite number of scaled alien species lurking in the darkness.
Separated by a single wall lay the human realm and hell.
...
A rhythmic, heavy marching sound came from a side passage.
An eight-man garrison squad had finished their overnight patrol outside the wall and was returning to the city through an alert side door to rest.
This squad was the most直观 (intuitive) "face of the frontline" Lin Yan had seen with his own eyes.
Everyone's armor was covered in grey dust, bloodstains, and mud; the originally gleaming standard-issue protective gear had long been worn to a mottled state. One person's shoulder armor had been torn apart, the metal cross-section hideous and sharp; another's forearm guard was dented and deformed, clearly having withstood a heavy blow from a scaled beast.
The squad leader at the front had an ashen face, bloodshot eyes, and a tightly clenched jaw. The exhaustion of a sleepless night nearly crushed his frame, yet he still stubbornly held the formation together.
In the middle of the squad, a young soldier was in terrible condition.
He looked no older than his early twenties, his forehead wrapped in bandages soaked with blood. His face was as pale as paper, his lips entirely devoid of color. He walked unsteadily, pressing his temples hard with both hands, his fingertips white from the force. With every step he took, his body trembled slightly.
That was not a physical wound.
It was an excessive shock to the Sea of Consciousness.
Invisible mental trauma was more grueling than bleeding or broken bones.
"Steady! Don't zone out!" the squad leader barked in a low, hoarse voice. "Register immediately upon returning to the rest area. Everyone goes to the Sea of Consciousness adjustment room for screening. No one is allowed to tough it out!"
A squad member panted heavily and reported in a low voice, "Captain, the fluctuations at Rifts Seventeen and Eighteen in the West District were abnormal last night. The detection values kept rising. Swarms of low-level scaled beasts have already appeared on the outer perimeter, less than a thousand meters from the outer wall."
The squad leader suppressed a heavy worry in his eyes and said coldly, "I am aware. The military intelligence has been reported to the Military Command Center. Starting tonight, the West District will have two additional teams on rotating defense. Everyone remember, do not relax your mental guard for a single second during the upcoming patrols."
"Physical wounds can be endured, treated, and healed."
"But once the Sea of Consciousness shatters, your life is ruined."
In just a few short sentences, the cruelest rule of this world was laid bare.
Lin Yan stood by the roadside, quietly watching the squad walk past him.
He had seen Jianghu battles, seen blood on the blade, and seen deep-seated vendettas.
But the danger of the Jianghu was a struggle between humans, complete with grudges, wins, losses, and resolutions.
The danger here was an endless, unsolvable, and unceasing racial slaughter.
The alien species outside the wall would not stop, would not tire, and would not reconcile. Day after day, they crawled out of the subterranean rifts, crashing like tides against humanity's last territory.
Humanity lacked the ability to launch a counterattack and completely eradicate them; they could only defend, endure, and use blood and lives to delay the time of their extinction.
...
Lin Yan walked slowly along the path beneath the city wall.
Alongside the path stood a massive, pitch-black Wall of Martyrs.
Dense golden names were arranged neatly on the black wall, stacked layer upon layer from bottom to top, stretching beyond the horizon.
Below them was a line of cold white text: List of City Wall Garrison Members Killed in Action in the Past Three Months.
In just three months, over a thousand had died in the line of duty.
And this was the relatively stable L City Bastion in the Southwest War Zone.
In the frontline war zones with the fiercest battles and the most rifts, the casualties would only be more terrifying.
Lin Yan's gaze swept over those names, his heart heavy and solemn.
Every single day that people lived in peace inside the wall was bought with the lives of countless warriors.
And precisely because of this, this city never supported idlers, never supported the useless.
...
At the end of the path was the busiest building in the entire city wall area—the Sea of Consciousness Adjustment and Recovery Center.
The entrance was bustling with people, yet there was not a hint of noise.
Countless frontline soldiers stood in silent lines, their faces pale and eyes exhausted. Some barely managed to stand, some leaned against the wall to pant, and some were supported by comrades, lacking even the strength to lift their heads.
Most of them had no external injuries; they looked physically intact. In truth, their Sea of Consciousness had long been eroded and shaken by the psychic turbulence of the alien species, riddled with internal damage.
A striking red warning notice was posted on the bulletin board at the entrance.
[IMPORTANT WARNING: Sea of Consciousness damage is irreversible. Mild exhaustion can recover with rest; moderate damage leads to permanent weakness; severe shattering leads to permanent loss of intellect. All newcomer assessments, field practical training, and outer wall patrols are undertaken at your own risk.]
Just a few simple lines of text, each word like a blade.
Lin Yan stood in front of the notice and looked at it for a long time.
The panic of the newcomers at the shelter, the instructor's warnings, and the clerk's reminders all materialized into reality at this moment.
The newcomer assessment was never a simple selection exam.
It was a gamble with life and death.
Win the bet, and you would be reborn, stepping onto the path of cultivation and gaining the power to fight alien species and control your own destiny.
Lose the bet, and at best, you would need half a year to recover; at worst, your Sea of Consciousness would be scrapped, reducing you to a cripple, living the rest of your life in mental agony.
...
The sun gradually rose to its zenith, the sky a blazing white, illuminating the entire bastion with stark contrasts between light and dark.
Inside the wall was the flickering warmth of a human realm clinging to life; outside the wall was an endless, dark purgatory.
Lin Yan turned around and slowly made his way back along the long street.
Along the way, all the scenes layered and superimposed in his mind.
The anxious newcomers, the numb and exhausted soldiers, the scarred giant wall, the dense list of fallen names, the irreversible Sea of Consciousness trauma, and the omnipresent shadow of death.
He finally understood the survival rules of this world completely.
There was no comfortable way out here.
Choosing a logistics position seemed safe, but in reality, it meant handing your fate entirely over to the high walls, to the warriors, and to luck.
Once the defensive line collapsed, those without power would die first.
Choosing the assessment meant a perilous path ahead, walking a blade's edge with every step, but it was the only way to grasp the vitality that belonged to yourself.
The last trace of hesitation in Lin Yan's eyes slowly settled.
He was still in no rush to sign up.
But in his heart, he already had his answer.
Floating and sinking in a broken world, seeking survival in chaotic times.
Only by becoming stronger could one stand firm.
There was no gentle rooster crow to herald the morning in L City Bastion. Instead, the city was filled with a mechanical hum and the synchronized sound of marching footsteps. The shading net framework that had shrouded the city for decades slowly slid open, and the thick alloy panels shifted aside inch by inch. Thin but real daylight spilled down, barely piercing the perpetually grey sky above this besieged city.
After a night of rest, the oppressive atmosphere within the city had not dissipated. Instead, with the new cycle of day and night, it grew even heavier.
Lin Yan walked out of the stairwell of the temporary shelter.
The air in the stairwell carried a faint scent of exhaustion. Throughout the night, almost no one in the shelter had slept peacefully. Some were reviewing combat techniques in low voices, some were repeatedly reading the assessment guidelines, and some sat in silent meditation, trying to stabilize their minds just a fraction more before the exam.
Everyone was afraid.
Afraid of failure, afraid of being eliminated, afraid of damaging their Sea of Consciousness, and even more afraid that if they missed this chance, they would be trapped in the mud of bottom-tier logistics for the rest of their lives.
Lin Yan went downstairs and collected his standard breakfast in the first-floor cafeteria.
A hard compressed multigrain cake, a small tube of nutritional paste, and a rationed amount of purified water. There was no flavor to speak of; it was purely fuel to maintain bodily functions.
The cafeteria was massive, filled with hundreds of unregistered newcomers staying temporarily. Yet, the large hall was completely silent. No one laughed or played around; everyone ate quickly with their heads bowed, their eyes blank, anxious, or tense.
This was the norm of the post-Cataclysm world.
Comfort was a luxury, and relaxation was a fatal weakness. Every moment of being alive had to be spent preparing for the danger of the next moment.
Lin Yan finished eating in a few bites and turned to leave the cafeteria.
He had no intention of wandering through the residential areas today.
He was going to the true frontline—the base of the city wall.
He wanted to see with his own eyes how this bastion's so-called "stability" was bought; how many people the so-called "risks of the assessment" had buried; and where the true desperate situation of humanity in this world was hidden.
...
Walking from the residential shelter area toward the city wall defense line, there was a visible dividing line of atmosphere.
The further forward he went, the wider the streets became, and the harder the buildings grew.
The residential buildings with their warmth of daily life completely disappeared, replaced entirely by heavy military-industrial architecture. The exterior walls were made of thickened blast-proof concrete with embedded alloy frames. There were no extra windows, only narrow observation slits and ventilation shafts. There were no shops, street vendors, or training squares on the roadside. Instead, there were armories, war reserve supply yards, casualty reception stations, Sea of Consciousness recovery centers, and emergency quarantine zones.
The smell in the air had completely changed.
There was no aroma of food, no worldly bustle, only the cold scent of metal, the pungent smell of disinfectant, and a faint, lingering stench of rot.
It was the scent of alien species from outside the wall, lingering in the wind. It was the smell of war and death.
The pedestrians on the streets had completely changed as well.
There were no leisurely civilians, no naive students. Everyone coming and going was a frontline garrison soldier clad in armor and carrying weapons. They walked briskly, in strict formation, their eyes as sharp as blades. Every sweep of their gaze across the street was an instinctive vigilance honed by years of bathing in blood and surviving life-and-death struggles.
There was no life here, only preparation for war.
...
A few minutes later, the colossal, boundless giant wall pressed entirely into his field of vision.
A hundred-meter-high wall stretched across the earth, severing mountains and rivers, blocking out the horizon.
This was not an imitation ancient wall; it was an apocalyptic bastion built by humanity over twenty-five years of national power, resources, and human lives. Layers of alloy steel plates were superimposed and poured, with countless welding seams covering the wall in dense layers, old and new intertwined. Dense arrays of gun muzzles, energy defense systems, psychic shielding devices, and surveillance probes covered every inch of the wall.
On the wall itself, claw marks, impact scars, and corrosion traces of varying depths were layered upon one another.
The shallow ones were left by small scaled beasts climbing and tearing; the deep ones were the terrifying marks of high-level alien species ramming the wall. Some massive concave cracks even spanned several meters, later forcibly filled and repaired by human hands.
Every single mark was a testament to a bloody battle where humanity stood its ground to the death.
Above the wall, sentries patrolled back and forth. Their figures were as small as ants, yet they were firmly nailed to the very front of the defense line.
On the other side of the wall was the entire fallen wasteland, endless rifts, and the infinite number of scaled alien species lurking in the darkness.
Separated by a single wall lay the human realm and hell.
...
A rhythmic, heavy marching sound came from a side passage.
An eight-man garrison squad had finished their overnight patrol outside the wall and was returning to the city through an alert side door to rest.
This squad was the most直观 (intuitive) "face of the frontline" Lin Yan had seen with his own eyes.
Everyone's armor was covered in grey dust, bloodstains, and mud; the originally gleaming standard-issue protective gear had long been worn to a mottled state. One person's shoulder armor had been torn apart, the metal cross-section hideous and sharp; another's forearm guard was dented and deformed, clearly having withstood a heavy blow from a scaled beast.
The squad leader at the front had an ashen face, bloodshot eyes, and a tightly clenched jaw. The exhaustion of a sleepless night nearly crushed his frame, yet he still stubbornly held the formation together.
In the middle of the squad, a young soldier was in terrible condition.
He looked no older than his early twenties, his forehead wrapped in bandages soaked with blood. His face was as pale as paper, his lips entirely devoid of color. He walked unsteadily, pressing his temples hard with both hands, his fingertips white from the force. With every step he took, his body trembled slightly.
That was not a physical wound.
It was an excessive shock to the Sea of Consciousness.
Invisible mental trauma was more grueling than bleeding or broken bones.
"Steady! Don't zone out!" the squad leader barked in a low, hoarse voice. "Register immediately upon returning to the rest area. Everyone goes to the Sea of Consciousness adjustment room for screening. No one is allowed to tough it out!"
A squad member panted heavily and reported in a low voice, "Captain, the fluctuations at Rifts Seventeen and Eighteen in the West District were abnormal last night. The detection values kept rising. Swarms of low-level scaled beasts have already appeared on the outer perimeter, less than a thousand meters from the outer wall."
The squad leader suppressed a heavy worry in his eyes and said coldly, "I am aware. The military intelligence has been reported to the Military Command Center. Starting tonight, the West District will have two additional teams on rotating defense. Everyone remember, do not relax your mental guard for a single second during the upcoming patrols."
"Physical wounds can be endured, treated, and healed."
"But once the Sea of Consciousness shatters, your life is ruined."
In just a few short sentences, the cruelest rule of this world was laid bare.
Lin Yan stood by the roadside, quietly watching the squad walk past him.
He had seen Jianghu battles, seen blood on the blade, and seen deep-seated vendettas.
But the danger of the Jianghu was a struggle between humans, complete with grudges, wins, losses, and resolutions.
The danger here was an endless, unsolvable, and unceasing racial slaughter.
The alien species outside the wall would not stop, would not tire, and would not reconcile. Day after day, they crawled out of the subterranean rifts, crashing like tides against humanity's last territory.
Humanity lacked the ability to launch a counterattack and completely eradicate them; they could only defend, endure, and use blood and lives to delay the time of their extinction.
...
Lin Yan walked slowly along the path beneath the city wall.
Alongside the path stood a massive, pitch-black Wall of Martyrs.
Dense golden names were arranged neatly on the black wall, stacked layer upon layer from bottom to top, stretching beyond the horizon.
Below them was a line of cold white text: List of City Wall Garrison Members Killed in Action in the Past Three Months.
In just three months, over a thousand had died in the line of duty.
And this was the relatively stable L City Bastion in the Southwest War Zone.
In the frontline war zones with the fiercest battles and the most rifts, the casualties would only be more terrifying.
Lin Yan's gaze swept over those names, his heart heavy and solemn.
Every single day that people lived in peace inside the wall was bought with the lives of countless warriors.
And precisely because of this, this city never supported idlers, never supported the useless.
...
At the end of the path was the busiest building in the entire city wall area—the Sea of Consciousness Adjustment and Recovery Center.
The entrance was bustling with people, yet there was not a hint of noise.
Countless frontline soldiers stood in silent lines, their faces pale and eyes exhausted. Some barely managed to stand, some leaned against the wall to pant, and some were supported by comrades, lacking even the strength to lift their heads.
Most of them had no external injuries; they looked physically intact. In truth, their Sea of Consciousness had long been eroded and shaken by the psychic turbulence of the alien species, riddled with internal damage.
A striking red warning notice was posted on the bulletin board at the entrance.
[IMPORTANT WARNING: Sea of Consciousness damage is irreversible. Mild exhaustion can recover with rest; moderate damage leads to permanent weakness; severe shattering leads to permanent loss of intellect. All newcomer assessments, field practical training, and outer wall patrols are undertaken at your own risk.]
Just a few simple lines of text, each word like a blade.
Lin Yan stood in front of the notice and looked at it for a long time.
The panic of the newcomers at the shelter, the instructor's warnings, and the clerk's reminders all materialized into reality at this moment.
The newcomer assessment was never a simple selection exam.
It was a gamble with life and death.
Win the bet, and you would be reborn, stepping onto the path of cultivation and gaining the power to fight alien species and control your own destiny.
Lose the bet, and at best, you would need half a year to recover; at worst, your Sea of Consciousness would be scrapped, reducing you to a cripple, living the rest of your life in mental agony.
...
The sun gradually rose to its zenith, the sky a blazing white, illuminating the entire bastion with stark contrasts between light and dark.
Inside the wall was the flickering warmth of a human realm clinging to life; outside the wall was an endless, dark purgatory.
Lin Yan turned around and slowly made his way back along the long street.
Along the way, all the scenes layered and superimposed in his mind.
The anxious newcomers, the numb and exhausted soldiers, the scarred giant wall, the dense list of fallen names, the irreversible Sea of Consciousness trauma, and the omnipresent shadow of death.
He finally understood the survival rules of this world completely.
There was no comfortable way out here.
Choosing a logistics position seemed safe, but in reality, it meant handing your fate entirely over to the high walls, to the warriors, and to luck.
Once the defensive line collapsed, those without power would die first.
Choosing the assessment meant a perilous path ahead, walking a blade's edge with every step, but it was the only way to grasp the vitality that belonged to yourself.
The last trace of hesitation in Lin Yan's eyes slowly settled.
He was still in no rush to sign up.
But in his heart, he already had his answer.
Floating and sinking in a broken world, seeking survival in chaotic times.
Only by becoming stronger could one stand firm.