Chapter 927: The Sky Runs Black with Wings

The golden eagle, having noticed the flock to the southwest, stopped worrying about its awkward nest. It landed on a pine branch and let out a low, throaty call toward the southwest.

Such a massive eagle, yet it sounded more like a chick that just broke out of its shell. The shrill cry was almost enough to distract Xia Qing from her splitting headache.

“Flock sighted. Twenty kilometers southwest,” Zhang Jingwu’s voice rang in Xia Qing’s earpiece.

Watching the swarm surge across the southwestern sky like a brewing thundercloud, Xia Qing remembered a phrase she’d learned a few days ago: ‘group madness.’ Whether it’s people or animals, once the numbers swell, instinct takes over and reason vanishes—leading to all sorts of reckless, mindless behavior.

Beast tides work that way, and so do human riots inside the Safe Zone. After their defeat at Gui San, these raptors were no longer thinking creatures who knew fear—they’d turned into mindless killers and agents of destruction.

Nearly two hundred large and mid-sized raptors formed a black cloud surging closer, their furious cries sweeping the land. The noise jolted every raptor in the stone forest—some took to the air to defend their turf, others shrieked from the trees. Birds and beasts of every kind scattered and fled, the scene pure chaos.

The ever-growing black mass thundered straight north, entirely bypassing the limestone pillars where Xia Qing and her squad lay in ambush.

Zhang Jingwu’s voice broke in again: “Eighty-five large, one hundred two mid-size. Snipers at the first defensive line, open fire!”

“Bang!”

“Bang!”

“Bang bang!”

“…”

Snipers at Hui Three’s southern first defensive line squeezed their triggers in unison. Raptors shot out of the sky, crashing down one after another as feathers drifted on the breeze. From Xia Qing’s vantage point, it looked like snow flurries swirling where that black cloud of birds used to be.

As the feathers fell and the dark cloud thinned, the pressure weighing on the defenders’ hearts started to ease.

“Chirp, chirp—”

While Xia Qing felt a sense of relief, the golden eagle squatting in its nest was the complete opposite. Its baby-like chirps had morphed into sharp, piercing cries, assaulting Xia Qing’s mind together with the magnetic fields radiating from the two mutated trees nearby.

Xia Qing didn’t even blink. She’d spent a year enduring rigorous mental resistance and stamina training. Compared to that, a single eagle was nothing. Even when she’d had dozens of shells exploding at her heels, she kept her aim steady—her world reduced to the sniper rifle in her hands.

Twenty-five seconds later, only a thin shadow of birds slipped through the clouds, soaring overhead and breaking past the first defensive line as they continued north.

Six minutes after that, heavy gunfire rang out from the second line, five kilometers north. Then the third. Then the fourth.

“Ninety-five percent of the first wave neutralized. Hold positions and rest. Second flock approaching—thirty kilometers from the first line,” Zhang Jingwu’s voice reported.

Last August, when the bird tide struck, Luo Pei’s squad had set up the defensive network the same way—layer by layer, whittling down the raptor numbers.

Now it was Year Eleven of the Disaster. People had grown used to beast waves. As long as firepower held out and it wasn’t during a Devastation Rain, there wasn’t a beast left on Blue Star that could threaten a human base.

But the few evolved fighters among the raptors sometimes escaped—and remembered. The grudge would fester, and they’d look for a chance to strike back at humans. Xia Qing stayed sharp, finger tight on her rifle, waiting for the real target in the southwest.

Over the next three hours, four more flocks tried to break through and failed. Even the golden eagle above Xia Qing’s head went numb, finally falling silent.

Gunfire rattled in the distance, but Xia Qing’s own sniper squad had spent more than three hours in hiding without firing a shot. Finally, someone broke the silence on the comms with a lazy question: “There’s this bug on my branch. Disguised as a green viper, about the size of a palm. Anyone want it? What’s it worth in credits?”

Xia Qing recognized the voice instantly—Zhou Chuan’an, third in command of the Aurora Squad, a level six Vision Evolutionary and a senior sniper known as Bald Zhou.

Bald Zhou had a reputation at Hui Three—unlike Yang Jin, who followed every rule to the letter, Bald Zhou would do anything for a profit. That made him infamous around the Safe Zone.

After Sufeng Squad’s disaster last spring, Aurora Squad took their opportunity—snagging thirty plus capable evolved fighters from Sufeng and shooting from sixth to second in the squad rankings.

After a bit more idle chatter, Bald Zhou suddenly hailed Xia Qing. “Hey! Section One Night Heron. Where’d you use to serve?”

Zhang Ling was one of the Azure Dragon Squad’s secret weapons—she rarely showed herself in public, so few knew her voice. Nestled in the shadows beneath the eagle’s nest, Xia Qing kept silent.

Bald Zhou kept muttering to himself. “Did Azure Dragon ever have a female senior sniper? The codename Night Heron rings a bell…”

“Shut it.” Before Bald Zhou could finish, a smoky-voiced woman cut in over the comms.

Xia Qing knew this voice too. Mo Shaozhi—code-named Dead End Yama—ranked third among Hui Three’s teams, a level five Vision Evolutionary and a senior sniper.

A poison gas accident had wrecked Mo Shaozhi’s voice in the field. Now she wore a pure black protective mask over half her face, and rumors swirled she’d been disfigured—earning her the nickname Grim Yama. Mo Shaozhi liked the name, so she went with it.

Bald Zhou had no desire to cross Grim Yama, so he shut up. With the channel quiet again, Xia Qing heard the eagle overhead let out a fearful whimper. She scanned the sky but saw nothing out of place.

But just because she saw nothing didn’t mean nothing was there. It just meant she hadn’t spotted it yet. Xia Qing tried to blot out the electromagnetic interference from the mutated trees, focusing all her senses on the golden eagle’s every move.

Above!

The eagle’s low call was aimed straight up—something lurking in the clouds was terrifying it. Xia Qing began flexing her cramped muscles, shifting just enough after lying still so long.

The target was probably about to appear. She stayed hidden below the nest—meaning she couldn’t hit anything directly above, not until the giant eagle flew out, bringing the target into view.

“Chee…” The golden eagle’s call kept getting louder but was quickly torn apart by the wind whistling between the pillars.

Suddenly, this sky-splitting predator with a wingspan over four meters leapt from its nest and hopped to one of the mutated trees. It carefully climbed, then huddled among the thickest branches.

So, this eagle knew those trees were dangerous. Or maybe it just knew the tree sap was toxic. It had built its nest here, treating those two mutated trees as a shield.

Raised feathers, trembling wings, and that nearly inaudible whimper—all signs of fear. Huddled below, Xia Qing followed the eagle’s gaze, slowly shifted, and looked west-southwest into the sky.

A dozen seconds later, she spotted two black dots slicing through the clouds at lightning speed!

Good news—the targets had finally arrived. Bad news—they were flying too high and too fast.