Chapter 62: Waste Is Shameful
Tonight, they would spend the night inside this makeshift fortress—nothing elegant, just the bare minimum for survival.
Chen Fan stood atop the Wall, both hands gripping the cold stone as he gazed up at the pale, ghostly glow overhead. The light from the Natural Ghostfire Zone here was brighter and reached higher than any Ghostfire he’d ever kindled himself. Tonight, their greatest danger was a Ghostbeast leaping from the cliffs above and crashing into the pit below.
This would be their most vulnerable night yet.
He’d only managed to stack a few lengths of Wall together, forming a crude bunker, and set up a single Level 3 Arrow Tower atop the ramparts.
Fortunately, the Level 3 Arrow Tower could be moved anywhere within the Camp—it wasn’t fixed in place, so nothing would go to waste.
But once you upgraded to a Level 4 Arrow Bastion, it became immovable.
Save what you can, while you can.
He hadn’t built a Ghostfire of his own tonight.
Walls could only be constructed within the Camp’s boundaries, but the Natural Ghostfire Zone bent that rule—a Natural Ghostfire Zone counted as a partial Camp for construction purposes.
Of course, there was a catch.
He’d have to manually reload the Arrow Tower with Ghoststones to keep it firing.
Building a Level 3 Arrow Tower only cost sixty Ghoststones.
But for a Camp—especially during the Rainy Season—this amount of defense was nowhere near enough.
So, Chen Fan stood watch on the Wall, Green Lantern in hand, prepared to keep vigil alone. His plan was simple: tonight would be rough, a patchwork defense. If a powerful Ghostbeast broke in, he’d deal with it himself, using the lantern.
After all, this Green Grade Mourning Lantern was more potent than even a Level 4 Arrow Bastion—two blasts could shatter a Wall.
He still had four charges left.
For weaker threats, he’d rely on the Arrow Tower. If too many enemies attacked, he’d just build more towers.
As for the others, they’d already rotated through the hidden weapons cache and were finally catching up on sleep.
Last night, none of them had slept much, and today had been another exhausting grind—everyone was running on empty.
He was doing better.
He’d managed to snatch a few hours of sleep in the second half of the night, so his mind was still holding up, just barely.
He’d swap out with someone else once they woke.
That night, Chen Fan kept his nerves taut, eyes fixed on the darkness outside the Camp. Without a Watchtower, there was no Gray Mist buffer—nothing to blunt the threat. The exposure left him uneasy, especially spending the night in a place that was still unfamiliar. He didn’t dare relax.
And then—
Bang! Bang! Bang!
Amid the rain, a sudden burst of sharp cracks rang out, like firecrackers going off in the night. This was the third or fourth time he’d heard it tonight. At first, he’d thought it was Ghostbeasts dropping from the cliffs, but none had actually charged into the Camp.
A quarter of an hour later, he heard it again—something heavy scraping along the ground outside the walls. Judging by the sound, it was just a single Ghostbeast. A big one.
But it didn’t attack.
It was watching.
From the shifting sounds, Chen Fan could tell it would pick a spot, linger there watching, then move to another vantage point—always observing, never acting.
Rainwater seeped through his clothes. Chen Fan tightened his grip on the Green Lantern, every muscle taut. If that thing dared to set foot in the Camp, he’d blast it with everything he had.
So the standoff dragged on, neither side making a move.
Even as dawn approached, the creature still hadn’t tried to break in—not even a probing attack. It just watched. Waiting.
By then, Crippled Monkey and the others had slept enough to start rotating in for the watch.
After a few words of instruction, Chen Fan finally lay down in the hidden cache, exhaustion washing over him like a tide.
He couldn’t say how long he slept—only that the darkness eventually faded, and morning broke.
When Chen Fan woke and joined the others on watch, he finally let out a long, relieved breath. The most dangerous night was over. That hulking beast that had stalked them all night had never actually invaded.
Tomorrow night, once things were settled, maybe—just maybe—he could finally get a full night’s rest.
For days now, he’d only managed snatches of sleep.
It was wearing him down.
His head throbbed with a dull ache.
Just then—
“Station Master.”
Crippled Monkey’s voice pulled him back. Following his gaze, Chen Fan saw the base of the surrounding cliffs littered with Ghostbeast corpses—seventy or eighty at least, all smashed into unrecognizable heaps of bloody flesh.
Chen Fan blinked, then looked up at the cliffs towering hundreds of meters overhead. He’d wondered about this last night: low-level Ghostbeasts weren’t exactly known for resilience. Could they really survive a fall from that height?
Now he had his answer—they couldn’t.
They really did die from the fall.
“Big Fish,” Chen Fan called out, glancing at the youngest survivor. “Did anything like this ever happen in your village?”
“Yeah,” Big Fish nodded. “But only during the Rainy Season. Every time it rained, you’d hear Ghostbeasts smashing into the bottom of the cliffs at night. But by morning, there were never any bodies left—just sticky blood stains.”
“The night our village was wiped out, though, the Ghostbeasts that jumped down didn’t die.”
Chen Fan nodded thoughtfully, eyes narrowing as he studied the corpses. Maybe, on most nights, the Ghostbeast bodies were eaten by that big one lurking outside the Camp. Last night, with intruders present, it had probably kept its distance out of caution.
He didn’t dwell on it.
Turning to Crippled Monkey and the others, Chen Fan issued his orders: “Crippled Monkey, you’re coming with me back to the old Camp. The rest of you, clean this place up.”
“And deal with those Ghostbeast corpses.”
“These houses—tear them all down.”
“Understood.”
Wang Mazi and the others nodded in turn.
The houses here were built of mud and stone, held together with resin from a certain mountain tree. Good against rain, but not against hammers.
At first light, Chen Fan and Crippled Monkey set out, driving the Trike back toward the old Camp.
The straight-line distance was seventeen kilometers—seventeen thousand meters.
Yesterday, before leaving the old Camp, Chen Fan hadn’t wasted the day’s free building quota. He’d laid down a ten-kilometer stretch of Copper Pipe along the route. Today, all that was left was to finish the final seven kilometers to connect the two Camps.
The quota didn’t roll over.
If you didn’t use it that day, it expired.
Waste is shameful.
With less weight on board, the Trike moved much faster.
“Young Master…”
Crippled Monkey’s voice came from behind, hesitant as he powered the Trike. “Are you planning to found your own Family?”
Chen Fan glanced back, paused, then shook his head. “No.”
“Families have a natural cohesion and exclusivity because of blood ties. But in our Camp, there’s not a single person who shares my blood. Besides, many Special Practitioners awaken at random—you can’t earn it just by working hard. The Family model just doesn’t fit the Eternal Night Continent. Even if you treat outsiders with sincerity, they’ll always feel like they don’t belong—they’re not kin.”
“I want to build a force of my own. One that doesn’t care about bloodlines. If you have ability, loyalty, and you’re willing to contribute to the Camp, then you belong.”
“That way, even outsiders won’t feel like outsiders.”
“And as the Camp grows, so will its people.”
“I don’t have many I can trust completely.”
“But you, Crippled Monkey—”
“You’re the only one I trust without reservation. I hope you’ll train with Zhou Mo and become a strong Practitioner, someone who can always guard my safety. I’ll make sure you get extra resources.”
“I…” Crippled Monkey was startled, excitement and anxiety warring on his face. “But… can I? I’m just a cripple…”
“So what? I’ve seen blind men and one-armed warriors become heroes.”
Chen Fan smiled, turning to look at him.
“Before the Rainy Season, I saw what you were capable of. You’re good.”
“I believe in you.”
“But you have to believe in yourself, too.”
“Only those who believe they can change the world ever do.”
“Yeah!” Crippled Monkey nodded fiercely, eyes shining with excitement and resolve. His hands worked the Trike even faster.
After a while, his voice came again, muffled and uncertain through the rain.
“Um, Young Master… I never really wanted to change the world.”
“I know. That was just some motivational talk.”
“What’s that mean?”
“It means I’m encouraging you.”
“Young Master, I won’t let you down!”
“Keep at it.”