IV. The Hardest Sutra to Chant

The leather cover of the steering wheel felt coarse. I started the engine, drawn by Juno’s hum. I finally understand why Old Wei treated vehicles like his second wife; there is truly something endearing about them.

Dead-Bell sat in the back, checking our supplies. Solace was busy disassembling and reassembling her sniper rifle, wiping the barrel until it was spotless.

I no longer have the privilege of enjoying Ranger-grade equipment. The trunk under my seat is crammed with second-rate junk scavenged by Mask—rifles with wooden stocks, plastic canteens, cheap flashlights, dry rations preserved from the last century, medical kits containing nothing but alcohol swabs, and a multi-purpose military knife.

According to his theory, the fact that I’ve managed to survive this long proves I don’t need high-end gear. These items are just tokens of good fortune, intended to appease fate so I won’t actually have to use them.

I asked, “How is your marksmanship training coming along?”

“Not bad, it’s passable,” Dead-Bell replied, “but I’m still more comfortable using Netherfire.”

Solace added, “Zhanlisi forced me to practice with firearms, and I’ve improved quite a bit.”

I was stunned. “Who is Zhanlisi?”

“Solace’s new boyfriend,” Dead-Bell said.

The car swerved, nearly clipping a rock.

Once we regained our balance, I shouted, “A new boyfriend? Is he a Ranger?”

“Yes,” Solace replied.

I asked, “But you… what about your Netherfire? Does he mind?”

“I’ve learned to suppress my Netherfire to an extremely low level,” she explained. “We aren’t living together yet, so I haven’t given myself away, but I will be careful, Officer.”

“You really are…” I trailed off. Solace is so pitiful, craving human warmth; I couldn’t bring myself to tell her to give up a hard-won love. Yet, she is a living corpse. One slight slip, and the normal life I’ve fought so hard to secure for them will be destroyed.

I found myself at a loss for how to dissuade her.

Dead-Bell said, “Officer, let her be.”

I asked, “Did you pursue him, or did he pursue you?”

Solace smiled. “Would you believe it if I said he pursued me?”

In truth, Solace is a girl of striking appearance—beautiful in the eyes of an ordinary person—but that is merely the facade created by the mask of Netherfire. Beneath that, she is a corpse, one step away from rot.

I shouted, “That bastard!”

Solace let out a soft sound, laughing as she fell silent. Dead-Bell asked, “Officer, are you jealous?”

“Of course!” I exclaimed. “You two are like my son and daughter. This Zhanlisi has some nerve, keeping such secrets from me!”

Solace said, “Longinus, I know you’ve been good to us. When the world abandoned us, you took us in. I wanted to tell you sooner, but you were always so busy…”

I asked, “So, have you… *ahem*… done anything…”

Solace looked a bit shy, but she still replied, “Yes.”

I felt like I was going to cough up blood.

Solace said, “Have you heard the story of Pinocchio?”

“I have, as a matter of fact,” I said despondently.

“I believe in that legend,” she said. “If we can love humans deeply and for a long time, the Netherfire will sublimate and turn us into humans, no longer this… this thing. For Zhanlisi and me, this is both my love and my trial.”

I wanted to scold her for such delusions, to correct her impractical dream, but I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

I said, “Dead-Bell! Do you have anything to confess?”

“I’m a Lieutenant now,” he replied.

I said, “Not that! Are you seeing a woman?”

“No,” Dead-Bell said. “I found a man, too.”

Everything went black.

My midlife crisis had arrived early, and it was worse than I imagined. It was like my daughter getting pregnant out of wedlock while my son was turned to the other side, and the worst part was, I couldn’t even intervene.

Dead-Bell said, “Officer, please keep your eyes on the road and focus. If you’re too tired, I can take the wheel for a while.”

I gritted my teeth, clawing my way back from the abyss of despair. There was no use dwelling on it now.

There seemed to have been an earthquake in the south; the mountain roads were rugged and riddled with hidden fissures, making the journey difficult. The upside was that there were fewer demons in the south compared to the north of the Black Coffin, which aligned with the rumors I’d heard—the north is the true den of demons. I suspect many are like Tanchi, or even on the level of Belphegor.

The Black Coffin focused their explorations on the north, but they were looking in the wrong direction; the south might be better for expansion. I checked the map Faja had given me. Charon Pharmaceuticals was closer to us than Charon Heavy Industries, located on the outskirts of an abandoned small town. We arrived at exactly 10:30 in the morning—perfect timing. During the day, the demons are dormant, giving us a golden opportunity.

I saw gray walls blocking off rows of white factory buildings, connected by white pipes. There was also a five-story office building, covered in plants and looking gray, as if swaddled in a shadow of death.

I put on Faja’s headset, but there was no sound. I sighed, trying to recall the profound knowledge of "Professor" Saint Longinus, but came up empty. That fanatical gamer from the last century hadn’t left me a shred of talent for computer technology. Not a bit.

I kicked open the iron door of the administrative building. A white rat, the size of a five-year-old child, lunged at me. I fell over in fright, only to watch as Solace pinched the rat to death with her long hair.

I said, “Solace, you need to wash your hair.”

Dead-Bell remarked, “Shouldn’t you be more concerned about the unnaturally large rat?”

“Haven’t we seen enough of this nonsense?” I replied. “It’s just standard mutation. I’ve even seen cockroaches that big.”

Dead-Bell looked up and said, “Officer, you really are a jinx.”

Above us, there were cockroaches the size of a grown man’s arm, their black wings twitching, ready to strike.

I shouted, “Don’t panic! Don’t panic! Cockroach meat is delicious!”

Dead-Bell said, “Is eating the first thing you think of?”

“I’m just boosting morale,” I retorted.

The cockroaches swarmed. Two extra arms sprouted from Dead-Bell’s body; his four hands extended into sharp claws. As the cockroaches flew close, he slashed them into fragments, spilling black fluid. The cockroaches hissed—the sound of their legs scraping against the walls, and the sickening crunch as they were crushed.

“Your Netherfire has improved again!” I said.

“Yes,” Dead-Bell replied, “but the more it grows, the more careful I must be to suppress it.”

I drew Mjölnir and roasted the cockroaches one by one with high-voltage electricity. The air filled with the scent of charred meat. Meanwhile, I noticed Solace hiding between me and Dead-Bell, looking terrified.

I shouted, “No way, you’re afraid of cockroaches?”

“A little, actually,” Solace said. “I’ve never seen such disgusting bugs.”

I grabbed a dead cockroach and held it out to her. “A gift for you!” Solace screamed and slapped me across the face twice.

I roared, “We’re in a crisis, and you’re resorting to infighting?”

“Who told you to be so annoying!” she snapped.

I was deeply disappointed in this unfilial daughter.

Cockroaches are clever creatures. After we killed a few dozen, they began to retreat in an orderly fashion.

I fell into thought. Dead-Bell asked, “What are you thinking about?”

I said, “Don’t we… doesn’t the Black Coffin have a food shortage?”

Solace covered her ears in horror, screaming, “Stop it!”

“We could supplement our food supply by farming these mutated cockroaches,” I said. “I guarantee they taste pretty good.” I considered investing in a cockroach farm in town and entering the food industry. After all, food is the top priority for the people.

“No!” Solace raged.

“Short-sighted!” I argued. “Why not?”

“I said no, and that’s that! No reason!”

Sigh. Women are always unreasonable when they lose their temper, and this living corpse of a daughter is no exception.

I said, “You can hide a boyfriend from me, but I can’t decide to open a business?”

“Is that the same thing?” she yelled. “My dating doesn’t bother you, but you farming cockroaches is a nuisance to everyone!”

I let out a long sigh, unwilling to argue. When women fight, there is no logic to be found.

Dead-Bell said, “Solace is actually right. Ordinary people are disgusted by the mere mention of cockroaches. Your farm wouldn’t just fail; it would ruin your reputation.”

I felt a chill, realizing he had hit the nail on the head, and sullenly gave up the idea.

A strange ecosystem had formed in the office building: cockroaches and rats coexisting, the rats eating the cockroaches, and the cockroaches eating the rats when they died of old age. These creatures had welcomed us as intruders, but after being shocked by our methods, they kept their distance.

However, the swarm of cockroaches and rats suggested that there were unlikely to be any Solar Infected here.

“They used lab mice for experiments,” I said, “and the rats mutated and escaped their cages.”

“I’ve never seen such massive mutations,” Dead-Bell noted.

“And this mutation has completely altered their genetic code,” I added. “It doesn’t look natural; it was artificially created…”

“Look here! A map!” Solace pointed.

It was a layout of Charon Pharmaceuticals. They had five factory buildings, each divided into different labs and production lines. I studied it carefully and sighed. “The usual drill. First, go downstairs to turn on the backup generator, then open the computer so Faja can read the files and find that magic-replenishing potion Helsing needs.”

“Magic replenishment?” Solace asked.

“Is that strange?” I asked.

“No, it’s not strange,” she said, “but why are you smiling when you say that? And it’s such a wicked smile.”

I sighed. “Solace, human thinking is complex. Some memes from the last century are better left unasked.”

Solace was curious and wanted to press the issue, but I didn’t want to be seen as a vulgar man in her eyes, so I just smiled and kept quiet.

“The generator is in the basement,” I said.

“You and Dead-Bell go,” Solace said. “I’m afraid of the cockroaches, so I’ll stay here.”

“You’re a Ranger Lieutenant,” I said. “You’re not afraid of death, yet you’re afraid of bugs?”

“I’m afraid, and that’s that. Nothing you say will change it.”

That’s why raising a daughter is worse than raising a son. When it comes to the battlefield, you really have to rely on your son.

Dead-Bell said, “Let’s split up. I’ll go straight to the pharmacy. Le-Gang said we need a large amount of medicine.”

In the last century, food and medicine preservation technology made rapid progress; it was possible they hadn’t expired.

I sighed. “Fine. I’ll go to the basement. You two be careful. Solace, especially you—there’s a cockroach behind you right now.”

There wasn’t, but Solace still screamed and punched me. The rats and cockroaches here haven’t hurt me, but all the injuries on my body are from her. Could it be that I’m going to die at her hands on this trip? That would be a pathetic way to go.