Chapter 148: The Scales of Attrition
The gunpowder smoke, mingled with the bloody chill of the wasteland, lingered for a long time at the eastern sentry post.
The bodies of the fallen soldiers were carefully gathered. Stretchers formed a long dragon, transporting the wounded toward the medical district inside the city. The suppressed groans of pain and the urgent shouts of the medical staff intertwined, falling upon everyone's ears and pressing heavily upon their hearts.
Lu Heng stood at the front of the devastated defense line, looking down at the casualty statistics on his terminal, his knuckles white from gripping it.
"Thirty-one scaled beasts, all annihilated. On our side, four killed in action, seven severely wounded, and two more with Sea of Consciousness tremors. Whether they can recover is highly uncertain." He raised his eyes to look at the wasteland shrouded by the curtain, a sense of powerlessness hidden in his tone. "This was merely a probing harassment. The matrix never intended to break through the defense line with this wave. It was simply here to exchange blood."
Exchange blood.
A cold and brutal term.
To the ancient lizard progeny, scaled beasts were weapons that could be continuously bred. If they were depleted, the rift could quickly replenish them. But on the human side, every fallen warrior, every Sea of Consciousness cultivator who suffered damage, was a tangible gap that could not be easily filled.
The scales were slowly tilting toward the alien race.
Lin Yan stood to the side, slowly reining in his turbulent Sea of Consciousness. Having spent a long time dispelling illusions, the fissure was continuously pulled. Sharp waves of pain followed one after another, spreading from his consciousness to every limb. He habitually pressed his brow, quietly regulating his breath. No one could help him erase this injury; even the stabilization agents in Instructor Wen's hands could only slightly ease the pain.
Gu Shen walked to his side, his face equally exhausted. Between continuous vigilance and combat, his Sea of Consciousness had long been overdrawn.
"Just now, I tried to track the priest's signal that was mobilizing the illusions. The signal was erratic, constantly jumping within the curtain," Gu Shen said in a low voice. "The priest doesn't approach the edge; it hides in the fulcrums deep within the curtain and controls things remotely. We don't get a chance to lock onto it. By the time our artillery fire gets there, it's always one step too late."
"They've completely figured out our tactics," Instructor Wen also walked over, holding a detection instrument to scan the residual psychic waves in the air. "Every time we destroy a node, the other nodes immediately share the resonance burden, and the priest synchronously adjusts the frequency. The entire curtain is a living entity. Local damage cannot hurt its foundation."
Zhao Kai squatted on the ground, repairing the detection equipment damaged by the scaled beast's charge, not even raising his head. "Moreover, I've discovered a pattern. After each harassment ends, the concentration of the corrosive breath from the curtain increases slightly. It's as if every single skirmish is charging this massive net."
Chen Ye slung his shock baton behind his back, gazing deep into the wasteland. "At this pace, if they come with a wave like this every few days, we won't even need to wait for a general offensive. Our manpower will eventually be ground down. Those new students at the academy have too shallow a foundation; a single high-intensity illusion impact could ruin them. They can't fill the main force positions at all."
No one rebutted. This was a fact laid bare before everyone's eyes.
The transfer orders from the command center arrived quickly: two automatic detection towers would be added to the eastern defense line, and the heavy firepower squads would stand guard in twenty-four-hour shifts. The rotation schedule for Sea of Consciousness cultivators was tightened, and the rest time for Lin Yan and Gu Shen was further compressed.
After receiving the orders, Lin Yan did not return to the city immediately. He stayed alone at the edge of the red line, his gaze fixed on the hazy, distorted boundary of the curtain.
He tried to release a wisp of perception, as light and shallow as possible. The moment it touched the surface of the curtain, countless fragmented psychic needles surged up. The fissure in his Sea of Consciousness twitched violently, and intense pain struck. He quickly retracted his perception and let out a闷哼 (muffled groan).
It was useless.
No matter how he adjusted the frequency of his perception or mimicked his previous experience fighting phantom arrays, as soon as he penetrated the curtain's range, he would be locked onto by countless nodes simultaneously. The flaw of the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness would be infinitely magnified. Once targeted by a priest, the illusion would prioritize attacking his weakness.
He had accepted reality a long time ago: this injury would follow him for the rest of his life, a permanent burden. He had never harbored the delusion of being cured one day. The only thing he could do now was learn to adapt to the pain and exert his strength as much as possible within the limitations of his injuries.
On the way back to the city, the atmosphere on the streets was more oppressive than usual.
Many civilians wore an indelible look of exhaustion and dread on their faces; the nightmares brought by the corrosive breath had already spread. At a street corner, a mother was holding a crying child, soothing her in a low voice. The child kept crying and shouting that there were crawling monsters in the dark. A passing soldier stopped, remained silent for a moment, and handed over a small piece of compressed rations, unable to say a single word.
The bastion was a shelter, but now, the shell of this shelter was being slowly gnawed away by invisible psychic erosion.
In the evening, the combat readiness academy held an emergency assembly for all students.
Instructor Wen stood on the high platform. She didn't deliver empty, inspiring speeches. Instead, she projected the casualty data from the eastern defense line onto the light screen, laying it bare in front of the young boys and girls.
"You will eventually have to step onto the defense line. Sea of Consciousness cultivation is not a protective talisman. Every time you use it, you must bear the risk of tremors and permanent trauma." Her gaze swept over the young faces below the stage. "We don't have enough strong experts to protect everyone. The Western Front is short-staffed right now."
The audience fell silent. Some faces turned pale, while others clenched their fists tightly.
After the assembly dispersed, a female student who had previously suffered Sea of Consciousness damage during the illusion test sat alone on the steps, shedding tears silently. She had originally hoped with all her heart to become a Sea of Consciousness cultivator. Now, having sustained a mild injury, her upper limit was locked, and she would never be able to undertake frontline illusion-dispelling missions again.
Watching from afar, Lin Yan felt a complex mix of emotions.
He remembered the day he descended the mountain, still completely ignorant of this world. In just a short time, blood, death, illusions, and alien races had filled all his days.
Night once again enveloped the West Bastion.
The searchlights on the city walls continued their cyclic sweeping, and the detection antennas turned with a rustling sound.
Lin Yan returned to his cramped dormitory, closed the door, sat cross-legged, and activated the ancient martial arts mental technique passed down by his master to calm his mind. Within his Sea of Consciousness, the fissure lay dormant quietly, like a lurking scar—silent, yet forever present.
He reviewed the day's battle and the resonance patterns of the curtain over and over, searching for any exploitable flaw. But every time he deduced to the end, the conclusion was always the same: with his current strength and current state, forcibly penetrating deep into the curtain was no different from seeking death.
The communication earpiece suddenly chimed softly. It was Lu Heng's voice:
"Lin Yan, Gu Shen, come to the command room. New intelligence. Something is moving on a massive scale inside the curtain."
Lin Yan opened his eyes, the hidden pain at his brow still lingering. He stood up and pushed the door open, stepping into the heavy night.
Beneath the curtain, a new round of mobilization had already begun.
End of Chapter.
The bodies of the fallen soldiers were carefully gathered. Stretchers formed a long dragon, transporting the wounded toward the medical district inside the city. The suppressed groans of pain and the urgent shouts of the medical staff intertwined, falling upon everyone's ears and pressing heavily upon their hearts.
Lu Heng stood at the front of the devastated defense line, looking down at the casualty statistics on his terminal, his knuckles white from gripping it.
"Thirty-one scaled beasts, all annihilated. On our side, four killed in action, seven severely wounded, and two more with Sea of Consciousness tremors. Whether they can recover is highly uncertain." He raised his eyes to look at the wasteland shrouded by the curtain, a sense of powerlessness hidden in his tone. "This was merely a probing harassment. The matrix never intended to break through the defense line with this wave. It was simply here to exchange blood."
Exchange blood.
A cold and brutal term.
To the ancient lizard progeny, scaled beasts were weapons that could be continuously bred. If they were depleted, the rift could quickly replenish them. But on the human side, every fallen warrior, every Sea of Consciousness cultivator who suffered damage, was a tangible gap that could not be easily filled.
The scales were slowly tilting toward the alien race.
Lin Yan stood to the side, slowly reining in his turbulent Sea of Consciousness. Having spent a long time dispelling illusions, the fissure was continuously pulled. Sharp waves of pain followed one after another, spreading from his consciousness to every limb. He habitually pressed his brow, quietly regulating his breath. No one could help him erase this injury; even the stabilization agents in Instructor Wen's hands could only slightly ease the pain.
Gu Shen walked to his side, his face equally exhausted. Between continuous vigilance and combat, his Sea of Consciousness had long been overdrawn.
"Just now, I tried to track the priest's signal that was mobilizing the illusions. The signal was erratic, constantly jumping within the curtain," Gu Shen said in a low voice. "The priest doesn't approach the edge; it hides in the fulcrums deep within the curtain and controls things remotely. We don't get a chance to lock onto it. By the time our artillery fire gets there, it's always one step too late."
"They've completely figured out our tactics," Instructor Wen also walked over, holding a detection instrument to scan the residual psychic waves in the air. "Every time we destroy a node, the other nodes immediately share the resonance burden, and the priest synchronously adjusts the frequency. The entire curtain is a living entity. Local damage cannot hurt its foundation."
Zhao Kai squatted on the ground, repairing the detection equipment damaged by the scaled beast's charge, not even raising his head. "Moreover, I've discovered a pattern. After each harassment ends, the concentration of the corrosive breath from the curtain increases slightly. It's as if every single skirmish is charging this massive net."
Chen Ye slung his shock baton behind his back, gazing deep into the wasteland. "At this pace, if they come with a wave like this every few days, we won't even need to wait for a general offensive. Our manpower will eventually be ground down. Those new students at the academy have too shallow a foundation; a single high-intensity illusion impact could ruin them. They can't fill the main force positions at all."
No one rebutted. This was a fact laid bare before everyone's eyes.
The transfer orders from the command center arrived quickly: two automatic detection towers would be added to the eastern defense line, and the heavy firepower squads would stand guard in twenty-four-hour shifts. The rotation schedule for Sea of Consciousness cultivators was tightened, and the rest time for Lin Yan and Gu Shen was further compressed.
After receiving the orders, Lin Yan did not return to the city immediately. He stayed alone at the edge of the red line, his gaze fixed on the hazy, distorted boundary of the curtain.
He tried to release a wisp of perception, as light and shallow as possible. The moment it touched the surface of the curtain, countless fragmented psychic needles surged up. The fissure in his Sea of Consciousness twitched violently, and intense pain struck. He quickly retracted his perception and let out a闷哼 (muffled groan).
It was useless.
No matter how he adjusted the frequency of his perception or mimicked his previous experience fighting phantom arrays, as soon as he penetrated the curtain's range, he would be locked onto by countless nodes simultaneously. The flaw of the fissure in his Sea of Consciousness would be infinitely magnified. Once targeted by a priest, the illusion would prioritize attacking his weakness.
He had accepted reality a long time ago: this injury would follow him for the rest of his life, a permanent burden. He had never harbored the delusion of being cured one day. The only thing he could do now was learn to adapt to the pain and exert his strength as much as possible within the limitations of his injuries.
On the way back to the city, the atmosphere on the streets was more oppressive than usual.
Many civilians wore an indelible look of exhaustion and dread on their faces; the nightmares brought by the corrosive breath had already spread. At a street corner, a mother was holding a crying child, soothing her in a low voice. The child kept crying and shouting that there were crawling monsters in the dark. A passing soldier stopped, remained silent for a moment, and handed over a small piece of compressed rations, unable to say a single word.
The bastion was a shelter, but now, the shell of this shelter was being slowly gnawed away by invisible psychic erosion.
In the evening, the combat readiness academy held an emergency assembly for all students.
Instructor Wen stood on the high platform. She didn't deliver empty, inspiring speeches. Instead, she projected the casualty data from the eastern defense line onto the light screen, laying it bare in front of the young boys and girls.
"You will eventually have to step onto the defense line. Sea of Consciousness cultivation is not a protective talisman. Every time you use it, you must bear the risk of tremors and permanent trauma." Her gaze swept over the young faces below the stage. "We don't have enough strong experts to protect everyone. The Western Front is short-staffed right now."
The audience fell silent. Some faces turned pale, while others clenched their fists tightly.
After the assembly dispersed, a female student who had previously suffered Sea of Consciousness damage during the illusion test sat alone on the steps, shedding tears silently. She had originally hoped with all her heart to become a Sea of Consciousness cultivator. Now, having sustained a mild injury, her upper limit was locked, and she would never be able to undertake frontline illusion-dispelling missions again.
Watching from afar, Lin Yan felt a complex mix of emotions.
He remembered the day he descended the mountain, still completely ignorant of this world. In just a short time, blood, death, illusions, and alien races had filled all his days.
Night once again enveloped the West Bastion.
The searchlights on the city walls continued their cyclic sweeping, and the detection antennas turned with a rustling sound.
Lin Yan returned to his cramped dormitory, closed the door, sat cross-legged, and activated the ancient martial arts mental technique passed down by his master to calm his mind. Within his Sea of Consciousness, the fissure lay dormant quietly, like a lurking scar—silent, yet forever present.
He reviewed the day's battle and the resonance patterns of the curtain over and over, searching for any exploitable flaw. But every time he deduced to the end, the conclusion was always the same: with his current strength and current state, forcibly penetrating deep into the curtain was no different from seeking death.
The communication earpiece suddenly chimed softly. It was Lu Heng's voice:
"Lin Yan, Gu Shen, come to the command room. New intelligence. Something is moving on a massive scale inside the curtain."
Lin Yan opened his eyes, the hidden pain at his brow still lingering. He stood up and pushed the door open, stepping into the heavy night.
Beneath the curtain, a new round of mobilization had already begun.
End of Chapter.