The fire flickered dimly, yet the underground relay station felt colder than ever. The number one hundred and twenty-seven was like a blunt blade, repeatedly torturing the hearts of every survivor. Despair, exhaustion, and an indescribable sorrow hung in the air, mixed with the stench of sewage and rust, choking everyone's chest.
"The hell you call this a way out?!"
A rough voice shattered the silence. A scavenger shot to his feet, soaked to the bone, his hair plastered to his face, bloodshot eyes blazing as he shouted right in Jin Wanchao's face.
"We followed you to live! To build a better life! Not to dive into this goddamn sewer and get half our people killed!"
Several scavengers beside him chimed in, and pent-up grievances erupted in an instant.
"Right! Valerius was clearly playing us! And you still charged in blindly!"
"Talk about divine revelation! Looks like a lunatic to me! Just leading us straight to our deaths!"
Ah Huo lunged forward, ready to grab the man by the collar, but Jin Wanchao held him back. Jin Wanchao's "flame" allowed him to clearly "see" that the light within these scavengers flickered precariously, driven by rage and fear, on the verge of being snuffed out. As for Wrench, though she said nothing, her sharp eyes were filled with scrutiny and a touch of weariness. Her people were dying one by one, and the cost of this "alliance" had far exceeded expectations.
Jin Wanchao did not defend himself, nor did he roar. He simply stood still, letting the accusations and insults rain down on him like hailstones. His gaze swept over those faces twisted with anger, exhaustion, pain, and doubt. He saw the empty spaces left by their fallen brothers, the families torn apart, the hope shattered by this reckless gamble.
He knew they needed to speak their minds. These emotions needed an outlet—and he was that outlet.
"Have you finished?"
His voice was not loud, but it carried an odd penetrating power, drowning out all the noise.
For a moment, the relay station fell completely silent. Everyone stopped, staring at him in confusion.
Jin Wanchao slowly walked toward the pile of bodies hastily covered with rags in the corner. Each step felt as if it weighed a thousand catties. He moved slowly, like a traveler shouldering the entire world.
He stopped before the bodies without lifting the cloth. He only stared at the raised outline, at those once-vibrant lives now reduced to cold shapes.
Then, under everyone's gaze, Jin Wanchao slowly bent over and bowed deeply—to his fallen brothers, to all the injured and surviving cultists and scavengers.
His back bent low, like a statue crushed under a heavy burden.
"I was wrong."
Each of those three words struck everyone's hearts like a heavy hammer.
"I should not have acted recklessly. I should not have fallen for Valerius's trap. My decisions have cost you dearly."
He straightened up, his face etched with exhaustion, but his eyes were unusually clear, as if washed clean of all pretense.
"For this failure, all responsibility lies with me. I am Jin Wanchao, leader of the Fire Cult. I must answer for every choice I make."
He paused, his gaze sweeping firmly over every person present.
"I have no fancy words. No way to undo what you've lost. All I can give you is a promise."
Jin Wanchao raised his right hand high. Though his "flame" was faint, it held an unshakable resolve.
"I, Jin Wanchao, swear this to you: I will lead you to repay this blood debt to the Blacksteel Council a hundredfold! For every brother and sister who has fallen, I will water the flower of freedom—our freedom—across this land with their blood!"
His voice echoed through the empty relay station, carrying a stirring power that transcended weariness.
Ah Huo's eyes stung with tears. He remembered how Jin Wanchao had ignited his fire in the Furnace District, how he had led them out of desperate situations time and again. Jin Wanchao had no noble birth, no prominent background, not even fine clothes like the aristocrats. He was just an ordinary worker—a mortal leader willing to bear failure and face death alongside them.
Old Zhong trembled and slowly lowered his tools. He saw in Jin Wanchao a "radiance of humanity" that surpassed any "divine revelation"—the very thing that defined a true leader.
Even the complaining scavengers fell silent one by one. They stared at Jin Wanchao, at his tired yet unyielding face, at his raised hand. They had seen too many hypocritical leaders, but never one so honest, so willing to take responsibility.
Wrench narrowed her eyes. A complex glint flashed in her sharp, shrewd gaze. She had thought Jin Wanchao was merely a tool empowered by "divine revelation." But now, she saw a real man—one who, even in utter despair, refused to shift blame and instead shouldered everyone's hope.
A strange force quietly rose within the relay station. It was not fire, nor anger, but something deeper: trust.
What they had just lost was not just a third of their brothers, but their hope for the future. And now, in his most vulnerable yet most unyielding way, Jin Wanchao had rekindled it.
"Brother Wanchao…" Ah Huo's voice was hoarse. He pounded his chest heavily—a devout response to Jin Wanchao. "We… we're with you to the end!"
"Hell with it! Live or die, I'm in!" A scavenger wiped his face, determination flaring in his eyes again. "We fight!"
The atmosphere in the relay station shifted from desperate silence to a heavy but resolute grimness.
Just then, a small figure stumbled out from the corner. It was Skinny Monkey.
His face was streaked with coal dust and grease, his eyes bloodshot, yet burning with disbelief and excitement. He clutched the data core tightly as if it were not cold metal, but some glowing treasure.
"Ji… Jin Wanchao!" Skinny Monkey's voice trembled with emotion, nearly breaking into a sob. "We… we did it! The file we stole from the data core! We… we finally cracked it!"