107 A Glimmer of Hope

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"…The power zone has lost control, the power zone has lost control…" The announcement became increasingly sharp, as if urging the passengers to evacuate immediately.

Death was drawing ever closer.

“You open the cabin door, I’ll hold him off,” Zhang Xiao decided instantly, pushing on Zhong Yun’s waist and with a strong shove, sent him toward the escape pod. At the same time, he charged toward the attacker, using the recoil force.

Zhong Yun was momentarily stunned but soon arrived at the escape pod’s door. Shaking his head, he knew this was no time to slack off. Quickly, he pulled out the password input keypad and entered the code.

Thanks to his exceptional memory, he recalled the eight-digit code the staff had recited just once when boarding. At this critical moment, he did not forget it.

With a soft "beep," the door slowly opened, revealing the egg-shaped escape pod inside.

A thunderous explosion shook the entire ship, which seemed to flip over. Amid the violent tremors, the three people in front of the pod lost control of their bodies and slammed into the metal wall, each feeling dizzy and disoriented.

Finally, when the shaking ceased, Zhong Yun was the first to regain clarity and immediately looked toward their only hope for survival—the escape pod.

Fortunately, it was still firmly attached to the ejector slot, not dislodged.

“…Explosion in the power room. The ship has sustained severe damage and will disintegrate in thirty minutes. Repeating…”

Silence.

Zhong Yun’s expression changed drastically. His eyes immediately sought the trembling figure nearby, whose eyes revealed despair and terror. Suddenly, that distorted face twisted into a grimace, filled with boundless murderous intent directed at Zhong Yun.

Zhong Yun’s eyes narrowed. He knew that unless this person was dealt with, he would never get on the escape pod—and fast. If others arrived, things would get complicated.

Zhang Xiao understood this perfectly as well. They exchanged a glance. He kicked off the wall and flew toward the man, forming a milky-white energy sphere in his hand.

However, those capable of boarding this ship were no ordinary people. At the brink of death, people often unleash power far beyond their usual limits. Though this attacker was young, he was no match for Zhang Xiao in one or two moves.

Taking advantage of Zhang Xiao’s engagement, Zhong Yun opened the escape pod door and climbed in. “Zhang Xiao, hurry!” he shouted, throwing something at the man.

Having trained together for two months, Zhang Xiao and Zhong Yun had developed strong coordination. With a jump off the wall, Zhang Xiao rocketed toward the escape pod.

Suddenly, Zhang Xiao felt his momentum slow as an iron-like hand grabbed his foot, accompanied by a muffled grunt of pain.

That hand did not stop Zhang Xiao but pulled the man himself toward the pod.

Zhang Xiao glanced back and saw a bloodied, ferocious face. Embedded in the right side of that man’s chest was a metal block the size of half a fist, with a small piece protruding—it was the communicator from when they boarded.

Despite such severe injuries, the man coughed up blood continuously, blood droplets floating in the air before staining his face and clothes. The bloodshot eyes looked terrifying.

Within those eyes was not only hopeless despair but also ruthless madness. A chill ran down Zhang Xiao’s spine.

In that instant, he understood the message in those eyes: “If I can’t live, neither can you.”

Determined to hold him back, the man had allowed a lung to be pierced. With survival impossible, he chose mutual destruction.

A person resolved to die was extremely difficult to contend with, especially since this man’s strength was nearly equal to Zhang Xiao’s.

Zhang Xiao’s body halted just short of the escape pod—half an arm’s length away. His blood seemed to freeze; his hand reached out and curled slightly.

Suddenly, noisy voices came from the corridor. Around the corner, a figure appeared, rushing toward the escape pod. Behind him followed a large group of desperate survivors, now like wild beasts, fighting and pulling each other, afraid of losing their chance at life.

They had come.

Zhang Xiao’s heart sank. His hand was only half a meter from the pod door—a distance usually easy to bridge but now the difference between life and death.

Just half a meter… only fifty more centimeters, and I could survive.

A surge of unwillingness and despair rose in Zhang Xiao’s heart. Was he truly going to die here?

Would he pull me up? Zhang Xiao looked hopefully at the pod door, wishing the other would reach out a hand…

Impossible. Putting himself in Zhong Yun’s position, he knew Zhong Yun wouldn’t pull him up. Because Zhong Yun was still dragging someone by his foot. Helping Zhang Xiao meant dealing with the person behind them. Under normal circumstances, the two could handle that man within ten seconds.

But did they have ten seconds now? Not even one.

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Ten meters away was a group of survivors with bloodshot eyes, like wolves and tigers. Any hesitation would see them pounce, making escape impossible.

Before death, human nature was so fragile.

Zhang Xiao had lost hope. Suddenly, he turned his head, looking at the foot tightly clinging to him—the same foot that had taken away his chance at survival. A manic smile spread across his face, eyes filled with bitter mockery.

See? If I can’t live, neither will you.

Before I die, I’ll make you regret being alive.

Rage erupted within Zhang Xiao. Looking at the man who had robbed his hope, he felt boundless hatred, determined to make this man’s life worse than death.

Suddenly, a strong hand grasped Zhang Xiao’s wrist. Stunned, he looked forward to see Zhong Yun’s face.

That unremarkable, forgettable face now shone with dazzling brilliance.

That fool.

Zhang Xiao felt a lump in his throat. Summoning all his strength, he grasped Zhong Yun’s hand in return. Then, twisting his head, he lifted the foot not held and fiercely kicked the bloodied face.

A dull "crack" sounded. The sensation told Zhang Xiao the man’s nose had been crushed. Yet, his hand never loosened its grip.

He raised his foot to kick again, and in the brief pause, he saw the disfigured face curled into a mocking smile, as if ridiculing his dying struggle.

“Hold tight,” Zhong Yun’s calm voice sounded in his ear. Zhang Xiao was pulled to the pod door. He put down his foot and gripped the door with all his might.

Grasping onto the escape pod, a flicker of hope rose again in his heart.

No—not yet.

He looked back. The group was just seven meters from the pod. He and Zhong Yun were still hanging by a thread. Life and death hung in the balance.

It’s over! Are Zhong Yun and I both going to die here? Damn it, if not for me, Zhong Yun wouldn’t have…

He looked at Zhong Yun, feeling not only remorse but a bond forged in life and death.

In life, how many can you find willing to sacrifice themselves to save you?

At this moment, Zhang Xiao felt that even if he died here, it would not have been in vain.

Zhong Yun’s face showed no expression. A purple light flashed briefly on his body as he raised his fist.

This was…

In Zhang Xiao’s mind flashed the image of the bald instructor’s powerful body soaring. Zhong Yun’s stunning strike had moved both the instructors and all the trainees present.

Suddenly, the air in the corridor swirled toward Zhong Yun. The wind made everyone’s clothes flutter.

Except Zhang Xiao, no one noticed the strange wind. They were all elated because it quickened their approach to the escape pod.

“Break!”

A fierce shout thundered, making everyone’s eardrums ring. Zhang Xiao was prepared but still felt dizzy.

As the shout erupted, an unparalleled sharp energy swept past Zhang Xiao’s back, the strong gust nearly prying his hand from the pod door.

With a crack, Zhang Xiao felt his foot sink and warmth spread. He did not look back; from the instructor’s fate, he imagined his own end.

Freed from the burden, Zhang Xiao climbed into the pod. A shocking pool of blood stained his foot—it was still warm.

The pursuing group was blown sideways by a blood-scented horizontal tornado, staggering as they watched the escape pod’s door slowly close.

Inside the pod, Zhong Yun’s hand gripped the activation lever. Zhang Xiao felt a pang of reluctance as starting the pod meant the hatch would open, and the dozen or so behind them would have no chance.

Zhong Yun’s face was expressionless, but Zhang Xiao could see the hesitation in his slightly trembling hand.

“I can’t die.”

Zhong Yun murmured, veins bulging as he prepared to pull the lever down.

A hand reached out, overlapping his.

“We can’t die,” Zhang Xiao smiled faintly. “No matter what, we bear it together—even if it means becoming killers.”

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The activation lever was pulled down by two hands together.

Amid the ringing alarms, the hatch opened. A powerful suction dragged everyone in the corridor into space, turning them into dust scattered across the cosmos.

During the countdown, Zhong Yun closed his eyes.

They had survived.

When the countdown ended, the escape pod ejected, soaring into the vast universe. Zhang Xiao looked back through the transparent canopy. The enormous ship behind them was now motionless, a huge gaping hole torn in its side—it was on the brink of destruction.

Pressing the outer protective cover, Zhang Xiao resolutely turned away. The real concern now was how to be rescued before energy ran out.

The two remained silent for a long time. To conserve power, all non-essential functions were shut down.

This escape pod was built to advanced civilization standards—one person could survive for a year. For two, conserving energy could extend survival to seven or eight months.

Seven or eight months seemed long, but in the endless universe, it was but a fleeting moment. The chance of encountering another spaceship in such a short time was slim.

Yet Zhong Yun was not worried. Barring accidents, in a few days, Xiao Ling would pilot the Mars to rescue them. With the Mars’s powerful scanners, detecting the pod’s distress signal would be easy. The distress signal contained a secret code agreed upon by Zhong Yun and Xiao Ling.

But fate liked to play tricks, especially in this unpredictable universe.

After drifting in space for a day, a sharp alarm woke them. The familiar siren made them jump, their nerves taut.

“Warning: Three hundred billion kilometers ahead, abnormal stellar activity detected. A level 3 stellar storm is predicted. Please avoid. Repeating…”

They were terrified. A level 3 stellar storm? If it hit, they would be reduced to bones and dust instantly.

“Set speed to maximum, escape the storm’s influence,” Zhong Yun said without hesitation, pushing the pod’s power to full.

The pod shot off at top speed, revealing its incredible power. In under half an hour, it reached near-light speed—remarkable for an escape pod.

After a full day of flight, they exited the storm’s range and breathed a sigh of relief. However, routine system checks chilled them to the bone.

The detector was broken. They could no longer scan for direction. They would be like headless flies, blindly wandering the vast universe.

To lose direction in the endless cosmos was a death sentence.

Could I really die here?

At that moment, a flicker of doubt crept into Zhong Yun’s heart.

After a day at full speed, the pod’s remaining energy could sustain operations for four months.

Could they be rescued within that time? Neither dared to hope.

Without the detector, they faced a difficult choice.

Should they stay put, waiting for a passing ship, or venture through the vast void hoping to encounter someone?

They remained silent, the invisible pressure suffocating. Facing death and such slim survival chances, neither could be calm.

After a long while, Zhong Yun lay down. The pod offered about ten cubic meters of space—enough to stretch limbs after sitting.

“It seems this time we’re doomed,” Zhong Yun sighed softly. “I never thought I’d die in this wretched place. It’s a little hard to accept.”

Zhang Xiao sighed too. “Death is death, no matter where.”

“No, it’s different. A fox dies in its den. To die in one’s homeland is the best fate,” Zhong Yun said.

“A fox? What’s that?” Zhang Xiao asked curiously.

“An animal—you’ve never seen one,” Zhong Yun replied casually, not mentioning that the fox was native to a beautiful blue planet many light-years away.

That was his home.