SS-Class Guide - Chapter 13

On the second day in the Unnamed District, the team assembled and headed toward the coordinates.

Jing Lan served as the commander-in-chief, with Wen Xiuyan as the deputy commander. While the Sentinels executed the mission, the Guides remained under their protection, providing mental stabilization as the situation required.

As a participant, An Yuan knew only a fraction of the mission’s details; in truth, Guides did not need to know everything. From what he understood, the detection network could only identify Zerg invasions in a general sense.

Zerg legions were diverse. Among the most formidable were those with the ability to devour, consisting of hundreds of thousands of individual Zerg. However, legions with such overwhelming special abilities tended to be physically weak. Beyond those, there were legions specialized in explosions, toxins, and various other traits. In large-scale warfare, Sentinels typically led the charge, commanding armies of soldiers.

An Yuan had seen censored documentaries where the blood of humans and Zerg stained the earth, a scene both tragic and heroic. Current intelligence confirmed that at least one Zerg legion was wreaking havoc in the Unnamed District. The Fifth District sub-temple had initially dispatched Sentinels and troops to investigate, but every team sent out had lost contact.

The Thean Temple took this matter seriously, sending three S-rank Sentinels and two A-rank Guides. Yet, this group also vanished without a trace. Now, it was the turn of An Yuan and his teammates.

According to sensors, the target was a small town in the Fifth District. It usually housed about 30,000 residents, but massive disappearances had recently struck, leaving the people terrified to step outside.

As An Yuan and the others traveled toward the coordinates in a bus marked with the Thean Temple insignia, an A-rank Guide remarked, “I do not understand. With such things happening, why have the people here not fled?”

An Yuan did not understand either. Seeking benefit and avoiding harm is an instinct, as is fleeing from crisis. Knowing this area was riddled with danger and that even elite Sentinels and Guides had vanished, why did the residents stay?

Bai Jinghui sighed. “It is because they have nowhere else to go.”

An Yuan looked at him.

Bai Jinghui stared out the window. “The Fifth District is far more chaotic than you imagine. Here, they have homes, family, jobs, and familiar faces. Once they leave, where can they go?”

“They could take their families and go anywhere else,” the A-rank Guide argued, never having experienced such hardship. “Anywhere is better than here.”

“But will other places truly accommodate them?” Bai Jinghui countered. Before the Guide could answer, he added, “There are many in the Fifth District who would sell their lives for just a little bit of money.”

An Yuan did not understand, nor did the other Guides on the bus.

The high-speed bus entered the town and stopped. The town management, Sentinels and Guides of low ranks from C to D and many ordinary people, came to greet them. This was the reality of ordinary regions.

An Yuan’s team arrived just as the town broadcast systems were reminding everyone that it was unsafe and to stay indoors unless necessary. It was a city under siege by an invisible threat. Yet, even in danger, life had to go on. The management had to welcome the Thean Temple officials, and the workers had to go to their jobs because they needed to earn money to survive. Even as the sky felt like it was falling, they worked diligently to support their families.

Their gazes frequently shifted toward An Yuan and Bai Jinghui, who wore the S-rank badges on their Guide uniforms. Even the mayor, though curious about the two S-rank Guides, lacked the courage to look them in the face.

An Yuan remembered Xing Lulu mentioning that some people online claimed Guides from the Thean Temple possessed a holy light, a light so lofty it was impossible to look at directly. An Yuan found it absurd, yet many people echoed the sentiment. Though called a “Temple,” they did not follow any religion; there was no such thing as holy light.

Full of curiosity about the Fifth District, An Yuan partially lowered his mental shield, letting his perception spread across the city while avoiding those nearby. A cacophony of sounds flooded his mind.

A child’s voice asked, “Mama, I heard two gods have arrived.”

“Not gods, dear. They are two supreme S-rank Guides.”

“Wow! I really want to see the gods!”

“You cannot, baby. Gods are not for us to profane.”

The child sounded disappointed but followed their mother’s lead. “Mama is always right. Hmph.”

An Yuan re-established his mental shield, blocking out the distant voices. He genuinely felt that, under these circumstances, the Thean Temple could probably start a cult and recruit followers.

While An Yuan’s thoughts wandered, the Sentinel team finished receiving their briefing. Declining an offer to rest, the group re-boarded the bus to head toward the incident site.

They arrived thirty minutes later. As a precaution, some Guides, including An Yuan, were not allowed to disembark. Wen Xiuyan stayed on the bus to protect the Guide group, while Jing Lan led a squad of Sentinels out to investigate.

An Yuan opened the window and looked toward Jing Lan. Before them stood a sealed, twenty-story building. It looked dilapidated, like a condemned structure. An Yuan knew people had lived here until recently, and some had even stayed after the disappearances because they had nowhere else to go. Only upon the team’s arrival were the residents finally cleared out.

Wen Xiuyan asked softly, “A-Yuan, are you worried?”

An Yuan looked at him, then back at Jing Lan. “I am just wondering what I should do when the fighting starts.”

Wen Xiuyan found it difficult to offer advice on that. Nearby, Bai Jinghui said, “In a large-scale battle, try to transform your mental energy into threads. Use them to soothe the Sentinels.” He sighed. “Without direct contact, the effect will not be perfect. Just try to prevent them from entering a berserk state.”

“If a Sentinel is about to go berserk during combat, use as many guidance threads as possible to calm them, then let them receive one-on-one guidance from a compatible Guide,” Wen Xiuyan added.

Bai Jinghui nodded. “Lord An Yuan, the baseline for a Sentinel’s mental landscape is one hundred percent. Usually, it is lower, and our job is to guide it back to eighty percent.”

In the Temple, An Yuan always aimed for ninety percent or higher. Beyond eighty percent, every increase was difficult, which was why An Yuan was so popular among Sentinels.

“But on the battlefield,” Bai Jinghui continued, “guiding them to sixty percent is enough.”

“That low?” An Yuan asked.

“There are compatibility limits. Guiding them higher can be intrusive to the Sentinel and harmful to us. Furthermore, with the same energy consumption, we can treat more people.”

An Yuan understood. He also knew that if a Sentinel’s status dropped below thirty percent, they could go berserk at any moment.

Suddenly, An Yuan’s eyes widened. Something was wrong.

At that moment, centered around Wen Xiuyan, green light coalesced as vines surged to cover the entire bus. Just a second before, An Yuan had sensed it; something invisible was washing over Jing Lan.

Jing Lan reacted instantly. The air distorted from intense heat, and the sound of explosions filled the air as something shattered. A massive blast followed, sounding as if the world were ending.

An Yuan looked toward Jing Lan. The sky was still blue, the clouds white, and the sun bright. Everything looked unchanged, yet red blood was falling like rain. To the naked eye, there was nothing there.

But An Yuan was an S-rank Guide with the strongest perception. He saw, or rather, sensed, a monster. A transparent, massive creature large enough to blot out the sun, capable of devouring everything.

An Yuan’s eyelids flickered. Looking through the window at Wen Xiuyan, he asked, “Is that a Zerg?”

As he spoke, Jing Lan leaped nimbly through the air, dodging transparent tentacles. More explosions rang out, and fresh blood poured down. Although Wen Xiuyan was inside the bus, his green energy spread outward, vines piercing toward the sky. Each strike resulted in more flowing blood.

Outside, Jing Lan barked orders to the Sentinels. Suddenly, a screech rang out, a sound that seemed to scream from the very depths of the soul. Everyone except the Guides, Sentinels and ordinary soldiers alike, staggered under the impact. For a moment, everything seemed to move in slow motion; An Yuan clearly felt everyone’s actions lag. In war, being half a beat slow is fatal.

As a veteran field Guide, Bai Jinghui reacted instantly, spreading his mental threads to cover the Sentinels in the area. However, what followed was beyond An Yuan’s imagination.

Wen Xiuyan’s vines seemed to peel something away. A tearing sound filled the air, the blue sky vanished, and a world of crimson appeared. There were countless people and cocoons. Some people were partially covered in silk, while others had already dissolved into nutrients within the blood-red mess.

An Yuan’s heart raced. He instinctively wanted to look away, but he knew he could not. Some of those swallowed by the massive, transparent Zerg were still alive, trapped in cocoons. Along with them were Wen Xiuyan, Jing Lan, and the others.

As a Guide, his perception was sharp. He realized the giant insect was attempting to devour the mental energy of the Sentinels and Guides. Inside those cocoons were the missing teams; some were dead, but many were still alive. He had to save them.

An Yuan clenched his fists. Then, the screeching started again, not once, but five times in succession from different sources. This meant there were at least five of these colossal creatures! Each scream battered the Sentinels’ mental landscapes, making their shields crumble.

Outside, Jing Lan’s voice reached everyone. As the commander, he issued an order, “All Sentinels in the blood cocoons have gone berserk. Sentinel Wen Xiuyan, I order you to evacuate all Guides immediately!”

An Yuan pressed his hands against the glass and shouted, “No!”

Jing Lan dodged a blast of energy from a transparent tentacle, his hand reaching toward the sky as heat capable of incinerating everything gathered in his palm. He possessed dual abilities: Fire and Light. Many said it was ironic that the dark and ruthless Jing Lan possessed such radiant powers.

Wen Xiuyan reached out to grab An Yuan’s hand, and the bus began to move. Bai Jinghui looked at An Yuan.

An Yuan threw off Wen Xiuyan’s hand and tried to charge out of the bus. Before he could, Wen Xiuyan caught him from behind, holding him tight.

Bai Jinghui sighed softly. “Young people are all the same. Many Guides are naturally kind and want to save everyone.” He was the same way. But their power was limited.

On a mission, the first thing a Guide must face is watching their comrades die, while they themselves are the most cherished assets whom the team would die to protect. It was precisely because they were so cherished that they wanted to protect back. This led to a cycle of guilt and self-loathing, hating their own weakness for being unable to save their teammates.

It was through this process that Bai Jinghui, who started as a C-rank, broke through to S-rank. He knew they were in grave trouble. Facing Zerg that could directly attack the mental landscape put them at a natural disadvantage. If they did not flee now, every Sentinel in the unit would eventually go berserk.

The piercing screeches rang out again. Some A-rank Sentinels were already showing signs of mental instability. Bai Jinghui thought of how many more friends he was about to watch die. His mental threads moved without hesitation, trying to buffer the impact of the screams.

At that moment, centered around An Yuan, a surge of mental energy as vast as a tidal wave erupted, enveloping the entire area.

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