Chapter Eight: The Setting Sun

Inside the camp, Commander Liu strode into the command tent, sat at the command desk, entered the codes, and swiftly tapped out a sequence, sending a request for fire support to the nearby artillery unit.

Alarms blared throughout the camp, signaling an emergency assembly. All the soldiers, already on high alert, rushed to their combat positions. Captain Zhang, who was also in the command tent, abruptly turned pale and looked toward Commander Liu, who remained calm and collected. Zhang knew full well that Liu had initiated the emergency protocols—a measure reserved only for changes at the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses or in the event of an attack on the camp.

“Commander, what’s happening?” Zhang asked anxiously, suspecting new developments at the tomb.

Before Liu could answer, the distant roar of artillery thundered. The nearby artillery detachment had opened fire!

Zhang’s face changed again. Without waiting for Liu’s explanation, he rushed out of the tent. The whistling shells tore through the sky, heading straight for the Red Cliff.

Less than a quarter mile from Red Cliff, amidst jagged rocks and wind-blown yellow grass, two scouts in desert ghillie suits observed the cliff through binoculars. Suddenly, they heard the shriek of artillery overhead, and within moments, the area around Red Cliff was engulfed in bombardment. Shells fell like swords from the heavens, crashing into the sea of corpses below, their destructive force sweeping away everything in an instant as smoke and flames devoured the field.

The two scouts were stunned. Before the smoke even cleared, a second wave of fire struck, this time accompanied by the piercing shriek of rockets, swallowing Red Cliff in another round of devastation.

"Eagle Eye to Iron Guard, Eagle Eye to Iron Guard! Red Cliff is under heavy bombardment. The research teams are being bombed—cease fire, cease fire! Over!” one scout roared into his earpiece.

As Captain Zhang entered the command hall, he heard the urgent transmission. Before he could speak, the battlefield communications officer tried to connect to the artillery but was stopped by Commander Liu. Zhang stared at Liu in disbelief. Liu, still unruffled, spoke with cool detachment: "Ignore it. Continue the bombardment."

“Commander! Why? Both research teams are there! The current coordinates are right on top of them!” Zhang’s face flushed with anger, his voice rising in panic.

"Zhang Jiandong, execute the order!” Liu’s expression darkened, his gaze fierce.

At Red Cliff, Luo Longyu and his companions had just reached the massive tomb gate when a muffled explosion rumbled up from the ground—the sound of an unmistakable artillery strike. At the same time, Zuo Baixing’s voice shrieked through the earpiece, “Who the hell ordered the artillery? Elder Ge, we’re being bombed! Professor Yin is down, and—look out!” The communication abruptly cut off.

“Baixing! Baixing!” Elder Ge’s heart seized. The others were just as shocked. Why were their own forces suddenly shelling their position?

On the surface, Zuo Baixing darted forward, trailing a blur, and kicked the three members of the first research team into a fissure in Red Cliff. Before he could follow, a shell exploded nearby, the shockwave flinging him violently aside. He fell in a heap of blood, buried under sand and shattered remains.

“Go deeper, go deeper!” the three survivors of the first research team scrambled desperately into the fissure, crawling and tumbling for cover.

“First strike complete, preparing for second wave in two minutes,” a voice from the artillery group announced in the command tent.

“Stop! Cease fire, cease fire!” Zhang Jiandong lunged forward, slamming his hand on the communicator and shouting. Ignoring Liu, Zhang connected to the scout unit. “Iron Guard to Eagle Eye, any movement at Red Cliff? Over.”

“Eagle Eye reporting: all is normal at Red Cliff—except for this bombardment. The first research team has been swallowed by the fire, there are casualties. Over.”

---

“Commander, why? Explain yourself.” Zhang Jiandong listened to the report from the scouts, feeling dizzy. He took a deep breath, stood up, and looked at Commander Liu. The other soldiers, equally stunned by the report, turned to Liu as well; in that moment, he became the focus of the tent.

“Report! Abnormal activity detected underground!” an alarm from the instruments blared.

Almost simultaneously, gunfire erupted outside the tent, followed by blood-curdling beastly roars. A claw tore through the fabric, ripping the command tent apart.

“Enemy attack! Enemy attack!” soldiers shouted. Heavy machine guns roared in response. Zhang Jiandong watched in horror as dozens of humanoid monsters burst from the earth, rampaging through the camp. He rolled aside to dodge a claw swipe and shouted into his earpiece, “Open fire! Open fire!” Before he finished, a claw struck from above, impaling him and nailing him to the ground. Blood instantly soaked his camouflage.

“Captain!” Several nearby soldiers saw Zhang Jiandong fall. They immediately redirected their fire at the creature, which, despite being hit, darted away. Its massive tail swept across the instruments, and the chaos of gunfire, explosions, and shouting filled the air. Smoke and blood were everywhere—the scene was utter bedlam.

Commander Liu stood with his hands behind his back, a cold smile curling at his lips as he surveyed the carnage. Suddenly, he collapsed to the ground, eyes shutting as he lost consciousness.

A few soldiers dragged the gravely wounded Zhang Jiandong backward. Through gritted teeth and a mouthful of blood, Zhang grasped a comrade’s arm and hissed, “Leave me! Organize the defense—get the commander out, now!”

The sergeant glared at the mayhem around them and barked to the privates, “Protect the commander and captain!” Then, without hesitation, he dashed off.

Helicopters took to the sky, unleashing strafing fire on the alien creatures below. Dust and debris swirled as the night was lit by the frequent flashes of explosions.

Zhang Jiandong, barely clinging to life, allowed himself to be dragged back by two soldiers. Blood stained the sand behind him. Amid the chaos, his blurred vision caught sight of a helicopter, trailing flames, plummeting to the ground in a burst of fire.

As consciousness faded, Zhang pressed his earpiece and, with his last breath, gasped, “Setting sun… setting sun!”

Deep beneath the mountains in central China, in the Xuan Yi Command Center, Zhang’s voice echoed through the communicator. Five minutes earlier, global spectrum scans from satellites had detected abnormal signatures from the depths of the Gobi—flashes of gunfire and artillery. When Iron Guard failed to respond, the center contacted Elder Ge and his team, who knew nothing of the camp’s fate except that they’d been inexplicably bombarded.

Almost simultaneously, Beijing and the Xuan Yi Center confirmed disaster at Red Cliff. Reinforcements surged toward the camp from all directions.

“Flag to Iron Guard, hold your ground! Reinforcements are en route, respond, respond! Over!” a general shouted into the communicator—but there was no reply.

Amid the shell-blasted Gobi, Zhang Jiandong’s blood-soaked hands fell limp upon the sand. He had fulfilled a soldier’s duty with his life.

Drone footage streamed back to Xuan Yi Center, and everyone fell silent as they watched the brutal battle unfold. The PLA soldiers fought to the death, refusing to yield, suffering dreadful losses. Fire blazed everywhere, blood soaked the ground, and monstrous aliens rampaged unchecked, ferocious and deadly.

The fact that Zhang Jiandong was able to initiate "Setting Sun" made it clear—against the current firepower, the garrison was hopelessly outmatched.

"Setting Sun" was a special directive for the Red Cliff observation unit, invoked only when the troops suffered catastrophic losses and utter defeat was inevitable. The signal meant the camp was on the brink of total destruction.

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Beside the general, an elderly man in a gray tunic stood straight and dignified. After a moment’s thought, he turned to the general. “Old Wu, given the urgency, the Xuan Yi Pavilion’s other detachments can’t arrive in time. Relying on conventional firepower will only mean more casualties. Have the first team cease their tomb exploration and return to deal with the crisis.”

“It’s the only choice. Give the order,” Wu Yifeng nodded.

The old man picked up the communicator. “Xuan Yi directive: halt the exploration mission. Return to the camp and engage the enemy immediately. Over.”

“First team received, returning at once. Over.” Elder Ge’s voice responded.

Inside the Tomb of Ten Thousand Corpses, Elder Ge looked at Long Shaoxian and the others. “Let’s go. The camp is under attack. We must hurry back.”

The three surviving members of the first research team, battered and dusty, didn’t know exactly who these second team members were. But after witnessing Zuo Baixing’s ghostly speed on the surface, they were certain these people were anything but ordinary. After all, anyone sent by central command to explore the tomb could not be a mere mortal.

Back at the camp, the battle was drawing to a close. The PLA soldiers had suffered devastating casualties. Reinforcements had arrived, but since the aliens were mingled with the troops, heavy weapons were useless, and their overwhelming firepower was nullified. This turned what should have been a one-sided fight into a slaughter by the alien creatures.

On the surface, Elder Ge and his companions frowned at the shell-churned sand. From the three survivors, they’d learned Zuo Baixing had been hit by the bombardment and his fate looked grim.

Tong Wushao’s eyes flashed as he instantly locked onto Zuo Baixing’s position. Together, they dug him from a pile of corpses and sand. He was unrecognizable, his body twisted and broken, a jagged piece of shrapnel deeply embedded in his back—a harrowing sight.

“He still has a pulse. Wushao, Longyu, take Baixing back. Shaoxian, Zhuixun, let’s move.” Elder Ge’s eyes were dark with fury—Zuo Baixing’s grave wounds had truly enraged him.

Elder Ge casually drew a Tai Chi symbol and stepped forward, vanishing from sight. Long Shaoxian became a streak of light, disappearing into the horizon, and Baili Zhuixun vanished as if into thin air—leaving Luo Longyu and the three researchers dumbstruck, as if in a dream.

“Brother Luo, please help carry Brother Zuo to the vehicle. You three, don’t just stand there—lend a hand!” Tong Wushao spoke with an authority and maturity that belied his age, a tone that brooked no refusal.

“Oh, right, yes!” The others snapped out of their shock and hurriedly lifted Zuo Baixing. Luo Longyu hoisted him over his shoulder and sprinted to the distant jeep. Only then did he feel a wave of relief—thankfully, he hadn’t driven the jeep into the corpse horde earlier, or it would have been destroyed by now.

One of the researchers jumped into the driver’s seat and started the engine. With a roar, the jeep shot forward, kicking up a cloud of sand as it sped toward the camp…