Chapter 247 - 141: Old Friend

Chapter 247: Chapter 141: Old Friend

On the second day of their patrol in Sector F-6, the sky was still a brilliant blue. Xu Mo walked ahead, his pace as steady as ever, his gaze habitually scanning the border between the fields and the river. But Zhang Yun, following behind, keenly sensed that something was different about him today.

When they met that morning, a thin haze seemed to cloud the depths of Xu Mo’s eyes, which lacked their usual sharpness and focus.

Several times, when they needed to wordlessly coordinate and exchange glances to confirm their safety, Zhang Yun found Xu Mo’s reaction was half a beat slow. Once, he should have noticed a suspicious ripple in the middle of the river but seemed completely oblivious. It wasn’t until Zhang Yun’s quiet reminder that he snapped back to attention.

Zhang Yun was puzzled. In the time she’d known Xu Mo, he had always struck her as calm, sharp, and seemingly immune to outside disturbances. Yet after just one night, his state had changed so drastically.

Several times, Zhang Yun thought about asking him, ’What’s wrong?’ But each time, she swallowed the words. For one, she wasn’t the type to pry. For another, Xu Mo always maintained a subtle distance that discouraged getting too close. In the end, Zhang Yun simply buried her concern and took a more active role in observation and vigilance, silently compensating for Xu Mo’s occasional lapses.

Xu Mo, of course, noticed Zhang Yun’s consideration and her hesitant silence. A flicker of warmth passed through him, but it was overwhelmed by exhaustion. He knew he wasn’t himself, but he couldn’t control the thoughts churning in his mind. He was even more powerless to explain to anyone the bone-deep chill that came from foreseeing the abyss of human nature.

Xu Mo had barely slept a wink last night.

His body wasn’t tired. His Iron Bone Realm Cultivation Level was high enough that he could go for days without sleep and still feel energetic. But the mental pressure—that suffocating powerlessness of facing an inevitable, terrible outcome—weighed on his spirit like a cold, heavy boulder.

Xu Mo felt like he was standing on the riverbank of time, watching as a murky, malevolent, and foolish torrent gathered in the distance. He knew it would eventually breach the dams and flood the countryside, yet he was powerless to stop it and had nowhere to run. For a moment, he even entertained the thought of just leaving. ’Out of sight, out of mind.’

But his reason told him that would be a coward’s escape, a pessimistic self-exile. ’In this apocalyptic world, where is there any safe haven? Jiang City at least has walls, order, a common goal to strive for.’

Leaving here would only mean plunging into another, unknown, and perhaps even more brutally unforgiving wilderness.

But this rational conclusion did little to dispel the profound sense of powerlessness and alienation weighing on his heart.

Xu Mo felt like a member of an audience who had read the tragic script ahead of time, forced to sit among actors who were still laughing, oblivious to the coming disaster. He was a complete misfit, his heart full of sorrow.

The day’s patrol ended in a strange silence. When they were returning their equipment, Zhang Yun finally couldn’t hold back anymore. Just as they were about to part ways, she spoke up, her voice laced with careful concern. "Xu Mo, are you free tonight? Want to get dinner together? I know a place that has some pretty good stir-fry."

Xu Mo turned and saw the worry in her eyes. It was a genuine concern, born from the camaraderie they had forged fighting side by side.

Xu Mo felt a slight stir in his heart. He opened his mouth, intending to say something, even if it was just a polite excuse.

But in the end, the thousand words stuck in his throat melted into a forced, almost rigid smile. He shook his head. "I can’t, but thank you. I’m a bit tired, and I’d like to go home and rest."

His smile didn’t reassure Zhang Yun, but she didn’t press him further. She just nodded, said, "Rest well," and turned to leave.

Xu Mo stood in place, watching Zhang Yun merge into the dispersing crowd. He didn’t want to infect others with his negative emotions, especially a companion like Zhang Yun who was trying so hard to find a bit of stability and warmth in the apocalypse.

After standing at the meeting point for a while longer, Xu Mo also turned and left. However, he didn’t go back to his small courtyard immediately. Instead, he began to wander aimlessly through the streets of the Inner City.

The sunset’s last rays bathed the streets and pedestrians in a warm, golden light. Weary workers dragged themselves home, street vendors hawked their last remaining wares, and children chased each other playfully in the alleyways. The air was a mix of sweat, dust, and the faint aroma of cooking food. It was a rare, vibrant tableau of life in the post-apocalyptic world.

But Xu Mo felt like a ghost, floating outside this living painting. It was as if he were separated from the world by a thick sheet of glass, the sounds of life reaching him only as a muffled drone. The people’s joys and sorrows seemed to exist across an impassable chasm. They worried about their next meal or rejoiced over a meager harvest, while he was tormented by the potential for humanity to fracture and turn on itself. This cognitive dissonance created a bone-deep loneliness. It was as if he were no longer one of them, but a detached observer, an anomaly who knew of the coming disaster.

Just as this suffocating sense of alienation was about to consume Xu Mo, a vaguely familiar figure at the street corner ahead broke through his chaotic thoughts.

The figure was tall and sturdy, carrying a bulging canvas backpack that looked heavy. Walking quickly with his head down, he flashed through the crowd before darting into a relatively secluded alley nearby.