Doomsday Spiritual Artifact Master

Chapter 115 – Life-and-Death Marathon (6)
◎ The format of the finals ◎

 

The day after the surgery, V587 set off for Ferrara to prepare for the final race of the Throne Race Competition.

Tongwan and Ferrara were both located in the eastern part of the Alliance. The distance between the two cities wasn’t too far. The starship traveling in low orbit would take about four hours to reach there, while in high orbit, it would take half the time but required manual control. Luo Xiaoyu was completely absorbed in repairing the mechanical arm and decisively activated the autopilot.

Song Ke opened the porthole and looked down. Through the drifting thin clouds, one could vaguely see cities arranged like a chessboard. Some had turned into cold ruins, while others still stood tall. The highways were jammed with fleeing vehicles and pedestrians, moving in groups toward different directions to escape.

Unconsciously, Song Ke leaned out further, wanting to take a closer look.

A strong pair of arms wrapped around her from behind, pulling her back from the window.

“Be careful, don’t fall out,” Zhuang Qingyan said with a smile. He still needed to use a wheelchair for a while, but his hands’ nerves had returned to normal.

“Who are these people…?” Song Ke asked.

“They are refugees, seeking new shelter,” Zhuang Qingyan replied.

“But their city hasn’t faced the zombie tide yet, why are they running?” Song Ke felt puzzled.

Zhuang Qingyan’s eyes were cold, “People, you know, are always greedy. As long as there’s a little ability, they want to find a safer place.”

Song Ke fell silent. Zhuang Qingyan was right. Humans were creatures that sought advantages and avoided harm. When District F177 first had the zombie outbreak, many “capable” people were the first to board the starships and flee. But now, with the apocalypse upon them, where could truly be safe?

Song Ke asked, “Is there any news about that zombie king?”

Zhuang Qingyan nodded, “Come here and see.”

Song Ke jumped down from the porthole and sat close to him.

Zhuang Qingyan brought up the map on his terminal and deliberately slowed down the speed while marking it. “In these two days, it has destroyed two D-class cities. If we take Tongwan as the center, in chronological order, first at the 11 o’clock direction, then at the 4 o’clock direction.”

Song Ke noticed something amiss, “Why doesn’t it directly go to the 12 o’clock direction?”

After attacking the 11 o’clock location, the Zombie King chose to take the longer route to the 4 o’clock position because it is extremely cunning. It had done its homework beforehand.” Zhuang Qingyan drew a rough map of the three cities densely located in the 12 o’clock direction. “Greenwater City (District D132), Reshufu (District D133), and Haimen (District D135) are all situated in difficult terrains, backed by mountains and water bodies. They are typically easy to defend and hard to attack. Greenwater City used to be a transportation hub with complex road conditions, Haimen is a food distribution center heavily guarded by forces. After its failure in Tongwan, it became more cautious, resorting to guerrilla warfare against humans.”

“So it abandoned the 12 o’clock direction?”

“Quite the opposite,” Zhuang Qingyan explained with a serious expression, drawing several arrows between the three cities. “The eastern part has been nearly destroyed. If it wants to break through to the west and north, these locations are inevitable chokepoints. The Zombie King will undoubtedly make its move there.”

Once the Zombie King infiltrates deeper into the Alliance, the number of zombies will only increase, and the zombie tide will become more frequent.

Zhuang Qingyan reconstructed maps of the three cities from memory, logically analyzing, “I speculate that its first attack will be on Reshufu, and it’s likely to be a probing attack.”

Song Ke looked at the densely marked points on the terminal and couldn’t help but exclaim, “Impressive! Did you memorize all of this?”

Although aware of Zhuang Qingyan’s extensive knowledge, every display of memory beyond ordinary capabilities never failed to amaze Song Ke.

Pleased by the praise, Zhuang Qingyan’s lips curved into a faint smile, “When I first arrived in Qinglan, I didn’t have many qualifications. I could only spend time as an ordinary clerk, going through these materials to pass the time.”

Another instance of “I’m just an ordinary clerk” spiel. In the past, Song Ke might have questioned, “Aren’t you a pharmaceutical researcher?” But at this moment, she struggled to express her feelings, silently gazing at Zhuang Qingyan for two seconds before turning away, her expression difficult to read.

Keep pretending if you want to.

“Someone is tracking us,” Luo Xiaoyu suddenly spoke up.

Su Cha immediately drew out his dagger and cautiously observed through the cabin door, while Lin Youyou and Fang Zhixu instinctively stopped their conversation.

Lu Xiaoyu brought up the rear radar screen, confirming that indeed, four hovercars were steadily following behind the starship.

Xu Xing hurriedly dashed to the other side, tiptoed, and peered out. Then, in a low voice, he exclaimed, “Oh!”

As Lu Xiaoyu was about to send a warning signal via radio waves, one of the hovercars suddenly accelerated, leaping forward. The sunroof opened, and a swift figure smoothly climbed onto the car roof, removing tactical goggles and waving towards Song Ke from a distance, “What a coincidence~”

Having recently drunk their specially provided drinks, Song Ke felt awkward pretending not to recognize them. “Ah, what a coincidence.”

“Where are you all headed?” The person on the car roof stared at Song Ke’s tousled hair and spoke up.

Song Ke didn’t respond immediately. Just as the person was about to speak again, their attention shifted abruptly to someone else.

The man had a handsome face but an aloof and cold demeanor. His gaze through the porthole was as icy as his expression.

The person on the car roof exchanged a glance with him. A surge of unseen tension clashed between their auras, dissolving without a trace.

Zhuang Qingyan remained composed. The person on the car roof tapped the roof with his fingertip, a slight smirk on his lips, deliberately provokingly smiling at him, “Hey~”

Then, selectively ignoring Zhuang Qingyan, he continued conversing with Song Ke.

Zhuang Qingyan’s brow furrowed tighter and tighter. How could he not remember that Song Ke knew the captain of this “Tustan”?

“Sorry, I should have spoken first,” the person on the car roof chuckled. “We’re heading to District C72.”

District C72? Wasn’t that Ferrara? The destination of Tustan’s group unexpectedly aligned with theirs?

“We… are heading there too,” Song Ke replied politely in return.

“I heard there’s a significant competition for awakeners in District C72. Are you going to watch it?” the person on the car roof asked.

“No,” Song Ke felt a slight sense of pride in her heart, her lips subtly curling upward. “We’re going to participate.”

“You’re a finalist?” This time, the person on the car roof seemed genuinely surprised. “Then I have to go watch; I’ll cheer for you.”

“Thank you,” Song Ke replied politely.

“Lady, you’re lovely,” the person said suddenly, catching her off guard with a phrase in the Alliance language.

“Huh?” Song Ke’s grasp of the Alliance language wasn’t great to begin with, and the person spoke quickly. She didn’t quite catch it at first.

Zhuang Qingyan’s expression darkened instantly. He turned his wheelchair without a word and glided towards the main control panel.

“Turn off the autopilot and switch to high-orbit mode,” he commanded.

“Why?” Luo Xiaoyu lifted his head from a pile of parts. “Are you in a rush?”

“Yes, I’m in a rush,” Zhuang Qingyan replied expressionlessly.

Luo Xiaoyu was about to retort when, for some reason, he fell silent again as he thought of something. He fiddled with the control panel, glanced at Song Ke, then back at Zhuang Qingyan, his gaze uncertain and his movements distracted.

Zhuang Qingyan glanced over to find the young man on the hovercar roof leaning forward, his left hand resting on his knee, engaging in a cheerful conversation with Song Ke.

He turned back, his tone chillingly cold, “Can you handle this or not? If not, move aside, I’ll take over.”

“Alright, alright, I got it,” Luo Xiaoyu conceded reluctantly.

With a swift acceleration, the starship shot forward like a meteor, leaving the hovercars far behind in an instant.

Zhuang Qingyan was about to return to the window when his wheelchair abruptly halted. He squinted slightly, “What guilty thing have you done?”

Suddenly becoming so accommodating, ready to do whatever asked.

Luo Xiaoyu paused for a moment, innocently smiling, “Why would you think that?”

Perhaps not accustomed to making this expression, his forced smile seemed stiff and strained.

Zhuang Qingyan stared at him for two seconds longer than usual.

…

Ferrara.

When the starship descended, an unexpectedly long queue formed at the city gate, extending several kilometers away. It was seemingly endless, with a temporary checkpoint at the front where a few AI officers in police uniforms patrolled, maintaining order at the scene.

Song Ke and her group were somewhat surprised. Ferrara had always advocated freedom and welcomed travelers from all directions, without any admission restrictions. How come, after being away for half a month, there was now a checkpoint for entry and exit?

Su Cha returned with reconnaissance information and whispered, “It’s just a simple population registration. There have been too many refugees pouring in recently.”

“Why are refugees coming to Ferrara?” Song Ke was puzzled. Did they consider Ferrara to be very safe?

“Ferrara has highly advanced mechanical capabilities, advantageous for fighting against zombies,” Zhuang Qingyan explained. “Moreover… it’s one of the few C-level cities in the east that has never been attacked.”

“Yes,” Su Cha nodded. “Those refugees believe that Ferrara is the ‘City blessed by the Gods.'”

Song Ke asked, “…What city?”

She couldn’t help recalling their previous experiences, how Ilya had hunted live zombies extensively to accumulate resources for the Throne Race Competition, detaining them in the underground of the Sycara Theater. Though later, due to the unrest, all those zombies escaped. But who knew if this super AI would have some sudden whims and create more absurdities? Were these refugees making the right choice by coming to Ferrara?

Lin Youyou had donned a mask immediately upon disembarking from the starship. After all, Ferrara was her hometown, and the chances of being recognized were too high. The group returned to their hotel to rest for half a day, setting out for the mobilization meeting only when night fell.

The mobilization meeting was a public event held in the central square, filled with excited and jubilant crowds. Song Ke and her companions didn’t push forward; instead, they stood at the periphery, waiting for the holographic projection to appear. After all, Ilya was an AI, and they could see clearly from any location where it emerged.

At exactly eight o’clock, three bells rang, neon lights flickered, and in the high sky shrouded in a faint purple mist, flower boats cruised smoothly. Cannons fired in unison, sprinkling shimmering confetti and flower petals. The observation elevators of the tower began to operate, ding-ing as they stopped at the floating platforms.

The magnificent platform rose before the crowd, and soon after, a real and tall figure emerged.

The man possessed a dazzling mane of golden hair, a tall and slender figure, clad in a pure white suit of satin material that exuded elegance and nobility. His once colorless glassy eyes had transformed into a more fitting — translucent icy blue.

Song Ke shivered involuntarily, sensing traces of someone else in the man’s presence.

Luo Xinglan? No, this was… Ilya!!

This super artificial intelligence, the highest executive of Ferrara, had finally achieved his wish and obtained his own body.

Ilya’s eyes scanned through the dark mass of people in the square, then revealed a smile that was no different from that of a human.

“Are you all curious about the format of the final Throne Race Competition?” he asked.

“Yes!”

Ilya mysteriously winked, “The mystery is revealed—it’s a marathon.”

“The total route this time covers 200 kilometers over three days and two nights. Participants must complete the entire course within the time limit and return to the finish line.”

The crowd was suddenly in an uproar.

200 kilometers, three days and two nights, what kind of marathon was this? Even an ordinary person could complete that distance in nearly a day, let alone someone with special abilities.

“Shhh—” Ilya gestured for quiet, immediately calming the restless crowd. “I know you’ll ask, what’s special about a marathon? So, I’ve set up some ‘tiny’ “check-in point”.”

“Every ten kilometers along the track, there will be a “check-in point”. Only by collecting all the points will the race be considered completed.”

Ilya’s expression conveyed a hint of trouble, “We have the “check-in point”, but what about the most important thing—the route?”

“So, I personally drew the route map again.”

Ilya snapped his fingers, and the city’s projections simultaneously switched to a real-time map.

The citizens were initially puzzled, whispering among themselves. But as time passed, suddenly, earth-shattering cheers erupted.

As Song Ke looked at the marathon map displayed in the projection, it became increasingly familiar. Hadn’t she seen it somewhere recently?

A flash of realization struck her mind. She immediately grasped it.

Rongzhou, Greenwater City, Reshufu, Haimen…

This wasn’t a marathon map; it was clearly a list of cities the Zombie King had already occupied or was about to attack!

What was Ilya’s intention? Was he asking them to run a marathon on the Zombie King’s face?

“I heard in the recent consecutive waves of zombies, there’s one called the ‘King,'” Ilya smirked. “I don’t like that name.”

“As the magistrate, I don’t like my things being coveted by others all the time. So, I’ve decided to take the initiative.”

“Only through fire and thorns can the true crown of a king be forged.”

Ilya slowly recited the slogan of the Throne Race Competition, his eyes filled with indifferent mockery and disdain for life and death.

“Only the team that kills the ‘King’ can ascend to the final championship throne.”

For a moment, the people in the square were silent, then they began shouting his name in unison.

“Ilya! Ilya!! Ilya!!!”

This unparalleled final would undoubtedly trigger a frenzy of viewership in the eastern Alliance.

 

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**TN

The Alliance language is English. “Lady, you’re lovely” – originally written in English.