Chapter 9: The Knights of the Apocalypse
Xiang Nanli hadn’t expected Xiu to still remember him.
He answered happily, “Yes, it’s me. Thank you for the genetic shot you gave me earlier.”
Xiu’s expression was incredibly complex. It was exactly like being terminally ill and having a friend bring over a doctor they swore was a world-renowned authority with a shelf full of published works—only for you to find out when he arrives that it’s actually Uncle Wang who fixes bicycles downstairs.
Xiu asked, “You’re welcome. What’s your name?”
At any given time, remembering a stranger’s name carried an underlying sense of friendliness and acceptance.
Xiang Nanli blinked at him. “Xiang Nanli.”
Xin Zhui, who was actively eating his canned food, suddenly began to cough violently, choking on his food.
Bodhi, reflexively touching the Buddhist prayer beads at his neck, murmured repeatedly, “Xiang Nanli?”
Xiao Yan’s gaze fell mockingly on Xiu’s face; she even strolled over and poked his paralyzed body. “Hey, hey, did you hear that? This is Xiang Nanli.”
Xiang Nanli dug into his can with a spoon, biting down slightly on the disposable plastic. He felt a bit depressed. Perhaps to them, hearing someone call out “Xiang Nanli” was the exact same sensation he would feel if he heard someone walking around named “Genghis Khan” or “Isaac Newton.”
But his name really was Xiang Nanli! He couldn’t exactly change his own name just to avoid infringing on his own taboo, could he?
Xin Zhui put down his can. “Don’t mind them. These days, names are treated as casually as internet handles; it’s incredibly common for people to pick popular names or share names with historical figures. We’re laughing at Xiu. I grew up with him; he’s worshipped Xiang Nanli since he was a kid. When he was little, he used to get into fierce arguments with people on online forums just to defend Xiang Nanli.”
The moment that came up, Xiang Nanli wasn’t sleepy anymore. “Argue about what?”
“Well, some people claimed that as a laboratory director and the founder of Immortality Tech, Xiang Nanli’s greater impact was merely in pushing the overall project forward, and that his actual scientific research level was highly open to question. They said the reason he holds such a lofty status today is mainly due to two men: first, Alpha; second, Luoyang.”
“Bullsh*t!” Xiang Nanli snapped indignantly, completely throwing decorum out the window. “Who said that? Tell them to come try it themselves!”
Xin Zhui burst out laughing. “Hahahahaha! That’s exactly how Xiu responded. Xiu even keeps a massive collection of Xiang Nanli merchandise at home, and he even named his built-in AI ‘Xiang Nanli’! Oh, and he’s also an administrator for the Xiang Nanli Anti-Defamation Station.”
Xiu, who usually maintained the facade of a cool guy, grew angry from sheer embarrassment. “That’s enough! There’s absolutely no need to say so much!”
Xiang Nanli was utterly dumbfounded. “I have merchandise?” Even though someone who had been dead for eight hundred years wouldn’t receive any copyright royalties, Xiang Nanli was still remarkably curious.
The System interjected, “The Human Alliance once produced educational cartoons for young children. The two-dimensional cartoon image of the white-coated doctor in the show was also named ‘Xiang Nanli.’ That is likely what they are referring to.”
A doctor in white… how could that not be interpreted as some kind of ‘scholarly beauty in white’?
Xin Zhui continued, “But a few years ago, there were new archaeological discoveries in the Wasteland. Investigators managed to salvage a photo of Xiang Nanli. After it was digitally restored, Xiu quietly locked away all his figurines…”
Because of the frequent wars in the past, the cloud databases had been bombed out multiple times. Even after data restoration, they hadn’t been able to find a single authentic photo of Xiang Nanli. People speculated this might have been the work of the Omnic Legion.
The tyrant known as Alpha always exhibited many inexplicable behaviors—for instance, his military offenses always prioritized cities where Immortality Tech was located, and he would systematically bomb all sculptures and buildings related to Xiang Nanli. He didn’t even allow the name to appear anywhere on the network. It felt as though he didn’t just hate humanity; he harbored a deep, personal hatred toward his own creator.
Of course, the Human Alliance wasn’t afraid of him. For about six or seven hundred years, Xiang Nanli’s appearance was treated simply as a collective public construct, defaulting to a refined and gentle middle-aged man.
Xiang Nanli felt a sudden sense of impending doom. “A photo? What photo?”
Even if he had become somewhat emaciated toward the end because of stomach cancer, he was still a gentleman who had been handsome from childhood to old age, right? He didn’t think his true appearance could possibly let down the public’s expectations. Could it be that Xiu simply preferred a different aesthetic style? What a tasteless fellow.
Xiao Yan pulled out her phone. “This one. I actually saved it.”
Xiang Nanli took the device, looked at the screen, and fell into a profound silence.
The photo was in color, and one could tell they had tried incredibly hard to restore it, but the face was still entirely indescribable. If it hadn’t been classified as an archaeological artifact, it looked exactly like a grotesque caricature the Omnic Legion had intentionally released to shake human morale.
It was a newspaper clipping, with only a small fragment of the image remaining. The headline read: “Xiang Nanli Donates 1 Billion to Alma Mater, Donglan University.”
Xiang Nanli remembered that event clearly.
But—but—the person in this picture was absolutely, unequivocally NOT HIM!!
He didn’t know which specific batch of school administrators that photo actually depicted, but the guy looked truly unsightly.
Xiang Nanli said in absolute shock, “Does Alpha not care?! How could it let others slander me like this!”
The System replied smoothly, “Hello. You have not purchased an electronic eye for me.”
Xiang Nanli said dejectedly, “I’m not talking about you. Sigh, forget it. You wouldn’t understand.”
The System paused for two seconds. “You can elaborate.”
Xiang Nanli was deeply traumatized by the “photo of Xiang Nanli.” He lost all desire to speak; he scraped the can completely clean with his spoon, set it on the ground, and stared blankly at the roof of the cave. “I’m going to sleep for a bit. I’ll go back to work when I wake up.”
This location was an air-raid shelter dug out by past survivors; at this extreme depth, it was highly likely constructed after the nuclear war ended. The open space out front was only about the size of a standard classroom, outfitted with electric lights. The walls curved upward into a structured arch.
However, Xiao Yan had originally wheeled Xiu out from an inner room. The components and materials used for the assembly had also been retrieved from inside.
Xiang Nanli was somewhat curious about the architectural structure of this place… But lacking explicit permission, it wasn’t appropriate for him to wander around randomly.
Xin Zhui said gently, “Wait a moment. Let Rock go and grab a sleeping bag for you so you can get some proper rest.”
The sleeping bag was compressed into a tiny lump no larger than a handbag, but upon being unfastened, it expanded like rising dough, becoming fluffy and soft. Xiang Nanli crawled inside, feeling like the center filling of a sushi roll.
Even after lying down, he was still feeling fiercely indignant. Alpha, tell me! Just say it! Did I obtain my current status by relying on men?
Then, he abruptly shifted the topic. It seems that even in this new world, I still have plenty of admirers. This little Xiu guy isn’t bad. Hehe, do you know the theory? It says that if you have a hundred loyal followers, you can live well no matter what era it is. Alpha, we’re going to be just fine.
Xiang Nanli possessed a broad mind, which naturally translated to excellent sleep quality. Within three seconds of closing his eyes, his consciousness completely decoupled from the world.
After he fell fast asleep, Alpha answered in a soft whisper, “Yes, we will be just fine.”
Xin Zhui walked over and quietly pulled the head of Xiang Nanli’s sleeping bag shut. Since it was equipped with an internal oxygen supply, there was no fear of him suffocating.
The atmosphere inside the air-raid shelter instantly plunged into a heavy silence.
“Once you’re repaired, we’re going back,” Xin Zhui said, sitting down on the ground. Under the dim yellow light overhead, his face was entirely devoid of a smile. “The Black Cross Inquisition has been relentlessly hunting us down, desperate to extract the unlocking key. The Investigation Bureau is equally untrustworthy—the officials back in Gusu City are undoubtedly colluding with them…”
Luo Xiu interrupted him calmly, “You’ve always wanted me to go home.”
“The outside world is too dangerous, my young master,” Xin Zhui replied. “Slogans like ‘Return to the surface, restore humanity’ are just propaganda lies used to maintain stability; it’s fine to just shout along with them. Even if someone truly has to pay the price for it, it shouldn’t be you. Regardless of whether humanity ever reclaims the surface, you are a member of the vested interest class.”
When he voiced these words, Rock, Bodhi, and even Xiao Yan offered no objections or reactions.
From their names alone, it was evident that they were ordinary citizens who lacked family backing. Being able to pass the university exams and become official investigators was already a life-changing feat for them. In fact, Xiao Yan had recently used her salary and the captain’s subsidy to purchase a small apartment in the main city district; she wouldn’t even have to worry about retirement insurance. That was the absolute ceiling of the life they could touch.
Luo Xiu was entirely different. Even the foundational prosthetic materials on his body consisted of Resistance-steel worth millions of credit points per pound.
In this world, the class system was entirely frozen. Concepts like “Are kings and nobles born with more worth?” were completely omitted from the textbooks. Furthermore, speaking completely pragmatically, everyone’s life underground wasn’t particularly terrible; once basic necessities like food, clothing, housing, and transportation were satisfied, there was an abundance of entertainment. The underground environment was vastly superior to the desolate surface.
“Besides,” Xin Zhui shifted his tone, “your body is severely damaged, but you have the luxury of replacing it with better, more suitable prosthetics at any time. You have no structural worries about your livelihood. But what about the others on this team? Do you want them to lose their jobs and security by following you down this path?”
“Yes, it’s true that you have money and can afford to support them. But doesn’t your money ultimately originate from family enterprise dividends? Pampering a child is no different from killing him; your uncle and aunt really ought to cut off your living allowance entirely.”
Luo Xiu’s brows locked tightly. Ultimately, he let out a resigned sigh. “I understand. I’m sorry for causing everyone so much trouble.”
“It’s fine, I understand your fixation. After all, it’s rumored that ‘Donghuang Heavy Industry’ managed to acquire the blueprints Xiang Nanli left behind before his death, and until their sudden disappearance, they had been secretly manufacturing—”
Xin Zhui’s words cut off mid-sentence, his expression instantly darkening. “The hidden cameras stationed at the foot of the mountain are triggering an alarm. How did they manage to track us down this quickly?”
…
Tall figures clad in absolute black armor rode upon massive mechanical horses.
The mechanical horse was a heavily modified transport tool specifically engineered to navigate the extreme terrains of the surface where conventional roads did not exist. These mounts were even capable of short-range flight.
Every single inch of these knights’ bodies was tightly sealed within heavy armor, but their most distinct feature was their helmets. Unlike standard protective gear, their helmets manifested as sharp, rigid triangles. A single vertical line intersecting with a horizontal line on the surface formed a blood-red, glowing cross.
For a machine-modified human, the absolute fatal weak point was the heart—the mechanical core. For a genetically modified human, the fatal point was the brain. Consequently, this specific armor had been designed precisely to obscure the exact location and orientation of the head.
The leading knight raised a gauntleted hand, and the detachment of dozens instantly halted, displaying absolute discipline. The wilderness fell into a deathly silence.
A black, three-eyed crow fluttered down to perch upon his knuckle, emitting a jarring, unnatural caw.
“I can feel the guidance of the Holy Spirit,” the leader spoke, his voice echoing flatly. “The little mice who stole the key are right nearby. Search the area.”
As the knights breathed, wisps of white condensation hissed out from the crevices of their armor.
They were the elite vanguard of the Black Cross Inquisition.
The Knights of the Apocalypse.
_
【Author’s Note】
- Xin Zhui: “After all, it’s rumored that ‘Donghuang Heavy Industry’ managed to acquire the blueprints Xiang Nanli left behind…”
- Xiang Nanli: “??? How come I don’t know anything about blueprints I supposedly left behind???”
