Chapter 29: A Tiny Shelter—Not Bad at All
????“Not bad at all.”
??Chen Fan didn’t dwell on it. He handed the parchnt to Zhou Mo. “It’s good to keep a record. If we make it through the Rainy Season, this will be proof of our endurance. How did you sleep last night?”
??Once the worst of the danger had passed in the second half of the night, Chen Fan had ordered Zhou Mo, Qi Chong, and the rest of the n to get so proper rest indoors—preparing everyone for today’s trials.
??“Slept like a log. I’m well-rested and ready for whatever cos next.”
??“Good.”
??Chen Fan pulled the Ghostskin Map from his coat and pointed to several markers. “Last night, nearly every Waystation in the Wasteland was wiped out—none survived. Only two made it through.”
??“One is ours: Waystation No. 37, under the Jiangbei Chen Clan.”
??“The other is nine kiloters from here, as the crow flies. Your task today is to take your people there, bring back any portable supplies, and escort the survivors here.”
??“If they survived the night, fortune favored them. But luck alone won’t see them through the Rainy Season.”
??“We have to stick together. The more hands we have, the better our odds.”
??“Understood.”
??Zhou Mo nodded, pulling out his own Ghostskin Map and glancing at the surviving outpost. If he recalled correctly, that was the Qiuhe Wang Clan’s Waystation No. 16. He’d t its Station Master a few tis, though they’d never been close.
??“Traveling in this downpour is dangerous. Your safety cos first. If you run into anything you can’t handle, abandon the mission and return to Camp imdiately.”
??With that, Chen Fan turned to Qi Chong, who was scrambling to get dressed after being startled awake.
??“Qi Chong.”
??Chen Fan stood, his tone grave. “Your job is to hit as many of the ruined Waystations nearby as you can and scavenge any usable supplies. There’s no quota—just see how many you can reach safely.”
??“But rember: keep flipping the hourglass.”
??“When you’ve flipped it eight tis, no matter where you are, you head back to Camp. No exceptions.”
??“Yes, sir!” Qi Chong finished dressing in a hurry, eyes still bleary with sleep.
??In the Rainy Season of the Wasteland, the deadliest threat was losing track of ti—there was no way to tell by the sky, not when the rain never ceased. If you didn’t make it back before nightfall, all you could do was wait for the Eternal Night to descend.
??The hourglass was their only way to asure ti here. Each turn marked half an hour gone. After eight flips, there would be less than two hours before nightfall—ti to return to Camp, no matter what.
??...
??A section of the Wall gradually receded into the ground.
??Zhou Mo and Qi Chong, after wolfing down so hardtack, took their Ghostskin Maps and led their teams out into the deluge. Step by sodden step, they disappeared into the mist.
??Out on the Wasteland, no Waystation stocked rain cloaks or straw hats for weather like this. After all, it only rained during the Rainy Season, and for the rest of the year, such gear was useless. Even now, during the Rainy Season, it wouldn’t do much good anyway...
??“You all finish up and get so sleep when you’re done,” Chen Fan called to Wang Kui and the others, who were still busy dissecting Ghostbeast corpses outside the Wall. Then he made his way to Crippled Monkey, who was carefully propping up the seedlings by the Farmland. The Ghostbeast Swarm had swept straight through the fields last night.
??The damage was not minor.
??“Young Master.”
??Crippled Monkey’s voice was tinged with regret. “Seven out of seventeen Monkey-Head Mushroom seedlings were trampled. Four out of twelve Ghoststone Vein sprouts didn’t make it.”
??“That’s a heavy loss.”
??“It’s alright—truthfully, it’s better than I expected.”
??Chen Fan’s expression grew thoughtful. “We still have plenty left. Judging by last night, I thought the whole field would be flattened. Get so rest—you’ve earned it. I’ll check things over and then turn in myself.”
??“Young Master, do you rember that seed I found in the cabin and planted out here?”
??“Of course. What, did it sprout?”
??“It just did!”
??Crippled Monkey pointed excitedly to the edge of the Farmland, where a few tiny flower buds—barely bigger than sesa seeds—were poking out of the soil. “It’s a flower! At this rate, it’ll bloom soon.”
??“Oh?”
??Chen Fan squatted by the field, peering at the little brown buds nestled among the new grass. He’d thought that seed was just a moldy bit of wheat or sothing, but it turned out to be a flower—and against all odds, it had actually grown.
??Talk about a stubborn will to live.
??Bear in mind, the Monkey-Head Mushroom and Ghoststone Vein seeds only grew because they were special drops from Ghostbeasts. For ordinary plants to survive weather like this was nothing short of a miracle.
??“Alright.” Chen Fan clapped Crippled Monkey on the shoulder, grinning. “Go eat and get so sleep. There’ll be plenty to do when you wake up.”
??“As you say, Young Master.”
??Crippled Monkey hugged the Godslayer Spear to his chest and headed for the wooden hut inside the Wall without another word.
??By now, Wang Kui and his crew had finished dissecting the Ghostbeast carcasses: forty-one Ghoststones in total, no Unique Treasures, and a decent haul of Ghost Material.
??The corpses could wait—they’d deal with them after so rest. Chen Fan sent the team off to sleep as well.
??That left Chen Fan alone to tally up the Camp’s assets.
??He already had four Ghoststones in his coat. Add the 484 dropped by the Flesh Maggot Ghosts, plus the forty-one just harvested, and he had a total of 529 Ghoststones. There was also a spent Ghoststone—the one he’d pulled from the Arrow Tower at the start. At dawn, he’d slotted it back into the tower’s recess.
??“Five hundred and twenty-nine Ghoststones...”
??Standing by the Farmland, Chen Fan gazed out into the endless rain and overcast sky. For a mont, his mind drifted, then he chuckled softly.
??Heaven is fair, after all.
??Every crisis brings opportunity.
??If not for last night’s Flesh Maggot Ghostbeast Swarm, it would have taken him ages to save up this many Ghoststones.
??A typical Station Master’s monthly salary was only ten Ghoststones. This haul was nearly five years’ worth of inco—about a third of what Wang Kui had earned in his thirteen years with the Wang Clan.
??He snapped back to the present and glanced at the three Unique Treasures in his hand, all dropped during last night’s chaos. No need to rush—best to wait until after so sleep. He’d been on edge all night, and his mind was running on fus. Decisions made in this state were rarely wise.
??Sleep first.
??Just as he was about to head back to the cabin, his eyes caught the flower bud, trembling in the rain. After a mont’s thought, he picked up a few scraps of broken wood from beside the hut and built a tiny, makeshift shelter over it.
??Barely big enough to cover with a palm.
??A miniature house.
??Not bad at all.
??Satisfied, Chen Fan stood and went inside. He peeled off his rain-soaked hemp robe, glanced at Crippled Monkey—already fast asleep, clutching the spear—and lay down on the other bed. Smiling, he drifted off as well.
??They’d survived another night.
??The Rainy Season had its upsides—it kept most of the true monsters and trouble at bay, giving him ti to grow stronger.
??For instance—
??By dawn, when word reached the Jiangbei Chen Clan that Waystation No. 37 was still holding strong, things would no doubt grow lively in Jiangbei City.
??When those marked for death stubbornly refuse to die, soone always loses sleep.
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