Farewell

The moment the blue energy barrier sealed the city, Luo Shu tested every ability in the Anomalous Project Encyclopedia.

Wall-climbing? Too slow.

Teleportation? Blocked—no line of sight outside.

Thirty-plus abilities.

Zero solutions.

"Still too weak."

Escape was impossible. Only one path remained: Return to Site-19.

Twenty minutes.

Could he make it from the city's edge to Site-19 in time?

Theoretically, yes.

If the Foundation sent a helicopter? Easy.

But no.

Every MTF unit was mobilizing to lock down the perimeter. No spare assets for a D-Class.

Self-rescue it is.

He grabbed the bike and raced back, no longer leisurely.

Minutes later, he reached his abandoned car.

Driving was faster—but could he reach Site-19 in under fifteen minutes?

The roads were empty now. No pedestrians, no moving vehicles. Just him and the clock.

He became Speed incarnate.

Then—his wrist terminal crackled.

"Luo Shu… you alive?" Bearded Jack.

Luo Shu almost ignored it. But intel on the bomb's countdown was vital.

"Here. What?"

A pause. Jack's voice was ragged. "Didn't make it to Site-19. My squad's dead. I'm bitten."

Luo Shu's grip tightened on the wheel.

Betrayal still stung.

But hearing Jack's death knell? A pang of grief.

"Safe travels," he muttered. "The neutron bomb's in sight. It'll be quick."

"Yeah. Quick." Jack laughed bitterly. "Sorry for leaving you. Though… bringing you might've killed us sooner."

Luo Shu didn't argue.

If you'd stayed, I had a dozen ways to save you.

Too late now.

Jack continued: "Where are you? Bomb drops in five minutes. You're smart—you'll find a way. Me? I'm done. Live for us."

Death softened his words.

Fine. For this intel, you're forgiven.

Luo Shu slammed the brakes.

No time.

Even with clear roads, Site-19 was ten minutes away.

Plan B: Immediate survival.

He bolted for a sewer grate.

New World's sprawling underground tunnels—home to the homeless—might offer refuge.

But mere sewers wouldn't block neutron radiation.

He needed water.

As a triple-degree scholar (mechanical/chemical/biological), he knew:

Water was the best shield.

The Foundation's blue barrier proved it—H₂O absorbed neutron radiation.

Just 4-6 cm of water halved the dose.

Wood or soil? Less effective.

Concrete? Useless.

Hence the sewers.

Find a deep enough water pocket, dive in, survive the blast.

Simple.

If Jack had known this, he'd have regretted abandoning Luo Shu.

His loss.

But Luo Shu wasn't safe yet.

No sewer maps. No guidance.

The tunnels had only ankle-deep filth—nowhere near enough protection.

For full survival, he needed at least one meter of water.

Four minutes left.

Where?

Dim utility lights barely pierced the gloom.

Luo Shu shouted into the darkness:

"ANYONE HERE? RESCUE TEAM!"

A response echoed: "Over here! HELP!"

Smart survivors had hidden below.

Luo Shu sprinted toward the voices—gunning down zombies en route.

On a raised platform, a huddle of terrified faces.

One stood out: a ragged homeless man.

"SHUT UP!" Luo Shu yanked the man forward. "WHERE'S A TWO-METER WATER PIT?!"

The man pointed. "That way!"

Luo Shu dashed off, finding the pit.

Deep enough. Wide enough.

But—

"Where's the water?!"

A dry cistern.

One minute left.