Chapter 10: Radiation Elimination
“Radiant Path’s forces are expanding at an alarming rate. Black Mountain is the largest grain-producing region in this entire wasteland, and Radiant Path has coveted our land for a long time.
“They even had the nerve to demand that Black Mountain submit to them. The city lord refused, but they still won’t give up. They keep sending spies to infiltrate us.”
Olivia finished speaking and held out her hand. “Could you give me this bullet head? I need to trace its origin.”
“Sure, but you have to promise me one thing first,” Finn said, closing his fingers tightly around the bullet in his palm.
“What is it?” Olivia asked seriously.
“Don’t use your powers to spy on me while I’m showering,” Finn said with a grin.
“I… I’m not some kind of pervert!” Olivia snapped, her cheeks flushing pink. She looked charmingly flustered.
Finn tossed the Relic Marrow Bullet head to her, then picked up an apple and placed it in her hand. “This is for you.”
Olivia froze for a second, at a complete loss. She cradled the bright red apple in both palms as though holding a priceless treasure.
Her eyes seemed to see through the thin skin, down to the sweet flesh and the core inside. Her heart pounded—this was the first time she had ever tasted a fresh apple.
In the wasteland, real fruit was almost unheard of. A few mutated trees occasionally bore fruit, but their skins were thicker than the flesh inside. Something as sweet and delicious as this apple was practically a miracle.
“Thank you!” She gave Finn a deep bow and left.
…
Finn descended the wooden stairs and stepped out of the inn. Jimmy followed close behind, sticking to him like a shadow.
Since the high-energy scanner showed nothing but a tangled mess of signals, Finn figured it wouldn’t hurt to stay in this wasteland a little longer. After all, ever since he had cultivated the Fire Profound Divine Art, he already possessed a lifespan of thirty thousand years. As his realm continued to rise, he would eventually become an immortal, undying existence.
The rundown inn stood on a street lined with ramshackle shacks and rusted water towers. Quite a few people lived in the area. There were also two gun shops, a butcher stall, and a grain store.
Finn stepped into the butcher stall for a quick look. The place was packed with palm-sized irradiated cockroaches, fly maggots wriggling in clay jars, mutated wild dogs the size of goats hanging from iron hooks, and a dead vulture reeking of rot. He turned and walked right back out.
Finn was a total foodie. While roaming the Endless Worlds, he had also made it his personal mission to taste every delicacy across them. He had been looking forward to sampling some authentic wasteland cuisine, but the sight of those “ingredients” instantly killed his appetite.
The two of them wandered around, asking casual questions as they went, and after crossing several streets they arrived at West Sector 2.
A Radiant Path follower named Milton Jenkins had set up a simple wooden shed here. For a cheap price, he offered to purge nuclear radiation from people’s belongings and food.
Jimmy had come with a “might as well try” attitude to have the radiation removed from his spare clothes. Finn didn’t really believe in radiation-cleansing services, but he was curious enough to tag along and take a look.
Stepping across the broken stone slabs laid over the sewage ditch, Finn saw a member of Radiant Path for the first time.
He was an old man wrapped head to toe in a red robe. His hair and beard were snowy white, and he had a kindly face. He looked extremely ancient, his face covered in deep wrinkles and age spots. Every so often, he would open his toothless mouth in a gentle smile.
The old man’s name was Milton Jenkins. Hunched over, he sat inside a rundown wooden shack with a simple wooden table in front of him. A sparse line of roughly a dozen people had formed before him. They carried weapons or ingredients, all waiting for him to purge the nuclear radiation from their items.
Finn and Jimmy went to the end of the line and took their place.
Finn turned slightly and narrowed his eyes. Inside the wooden shack, the red-robed elder Milton was fiddling with a strange object.
It was a long, rectangular semi-transparent block that looked like murky crystal, engraved with winding, intricate patterns.
Milton held the semi-transparent block in both hands, eyes shut tight and brows furrowed, murmuring under his breath. As he performed this action that looked a lot like “channeling energy,” the front end of the block suddenly flared with clear light.
The light swept over a dead crow lying on the table. The crow was even larger than an eagle, its claws and beak a dull iron-gray, curved like hooks.
Roughly twenty seconds later, the light on the block faded away. The owner of the dead crow immediately bowed in thanks, placed a single handgun bullet on the table as payment, and walked off cheerfully.
As he left, he told the people around him that once the radiation was cleared from the mutated crow, they’d have meat for dinner tonight.
Finn was curious. What exactly was that semi-transparent block in Milton’s hands? It looked nothing like wasteland technology.
The radiation removal went surprisingly fast. There were only two people left ahead of them in line before it would be Jimmy’s turn—the one with the backpack.
Suddenly, two gun barrels thrust out, pressing right against Jimmy’s and Finn’s heads. Three punks stood there, their hair dyed red and green, arrogance written all over their faces. “Out-of-towners, get the hell to the back. This spot’s ours now.”
Jimmy instantly squatted down with his hands over his head, the movement so practiced that the people around them burst into mocking laughter.
Finn turned his head and looked straight into the dark muzzles, frowning. “You trying to cut in?”
“Isn’t that fucking obvious? Move, unless you want your head blown open!” the punk pointing the gun at Finn sneered.
The people queued up behind them all took a few steps back and simply watched. No one wanted to get dragged into this mess.
Most of the locals waiting in line had guns slung over their shoulders. The three punks quickly zeroed in on the easiest targets—Finn and Jimmy, who both clearly stood out as outsiders.
The red-robed elder Milton stood up and pleaded with the three punks, “Holy Radiance above, all believers are equal. Please don’t point your guns at them.”
“Sit down, old man. This is Demon Gang territory. Mind your own business. We don’t believe in your bullshit Holy Radiance.” One punk waved his gun at the elder impatiently.
“What if I don’t leave?” Finn asked.
“You got a fucking death wish?” The punk jammed the barrel hard against Finn’s forehead with one hand and shoved him with the other, but Finn didn’t budge at all.
Finn suddenly shot out his hand, grabbed the arm holding the gun, twisted his body, and with a sharp crack, snapped the punk’s arm clean in two.
“AH!” The punk let out a shrill scream. Finn smoothly snatched the handgun from his grip and fired straight at his head.
Bang!
The gunshot rang out. A clean hole punched through the punk’s forehead and out the back of his skull, spraying blood and brains everywhere.
“Fuck!” The other two punks were shocked and furious. They raised their assault rifles and immediately opened fire on Finn.
The bullets slammed into Finn’s body, clanging like steel against steel, but they didn’t even tear his clothes. Finn calmly raised his gun and squeezed the trigger.
Bang! Bang!
After the two shots, the two accomplices collapsed dead on the ground as well. Blood slowly pooled beneath their bodies, soaking into the dusty yellow earth.
“Looks like people who cut in line reach the underworld faster. They’re always in such a hurry to die.” Finn tucked the handgun into his pocket.
The two people who had been standing in front of Finn in line had already fled to the side in terror. Finn waved at them. “Come on, keep queuing.”
Both men were deathly pale. One clutched his shotgun tightly, while the other held a can of expired lard in his left hand and kept his right hand pressed nervously on the revolver at his waist.
They shuffled forward hesitantly, eyes full of suspicion, clearly worried that Finn might shoot them in the back.
The three still-warm corpses lay on the street, their guns scattered beside them. Two men stepped forward, wanting to loot the bodies and take their weapons.
Finn glanced at the two men. “Those are my spoils.”
The two men instantly yanked their hands back in fright, not daring to make another move. They obediently returned to the line.