136: Chapter 136 Everyone works together to resist the insect swarm

The black tide outside the light barrier finally receded.

Insect corpses lay scattered in heaps along the edge of the barrier, severed limbs still twitching, while some bodies shredded by the light blades oozed a grayish-green slime that hissed and smoked upon the scorched earth.

The foul stench in the wind had not yet dissipated, mixing with the smell of scorched metal and the scent of blood, filling everyone's nostrils.

But no one was shaking anymore—they had withstood that wave of slaughter.

Chen Wuwang stood on a high platform made of piled rubble, his right arm wound crudely bandaged, blood already soaking through half of his armor.

He didn't look into the distance, but instead swept his gaze across the defensive position: three clansmen were dragging heavily wounded companions toward the center, a youth was kneeling on the ground wiring a power replenishment module for a mech, and on the other side, an old craftsman was hammering away at a broken gun barrel, sending sparks flying.

"Don't just stand there."

His voice was not loud, yet it cut through the aftershocks. "Those who can still move, check your weapons, count your ammunition, and repair your armor—we haven't won yet, but we have survived."

As his voice fell, the crowd stirred into action.

It wasn't cheers or gasps, but concrete, practical actions.

Some dug out spare Spirit Stones from the ruins to stuff into mechanisms, while others tore off corners of their clothes to bandage a comrade's severed finger.

There was also a young girl, her face stained with blood, who silently thrust a broken spear into the ground to serve as a makeshift flagpole.

Chen Xiaodao leaned on his sword, his mechanical left arm crackling with noise, the energy indicator light showing only a faint red glow.

He slowly straightened up and said in a hoarse voice: "Don't go out! The brood nest hasn't retreated—this was only the first wave."

A few young clansmen, intending to pursue the remaining insects, were stopped dead in their tracks by his sharp gaze.

He walked step by step to the center of the formation, knelt on one knee, and faced a young clansman curled up beside a corpse.

The child was no more than twelve or thirteen, gripping half a burnt Talisman in their hand, tears carving two muddy tracks down their face.

Chen Xiaodao removed his glove, pulled a metal plate engraved with the Chen family emblem from his chest, and gently placed it into the child's palm.

"You are still alive," he said, "and that is the best comfort for those who have died."

The child looked up, lips trembling, and finally nodded.

Just then, a loud clang of a heavy hammer striking iron rang out from the right flank!

Everyone was startled and turned to look—Chen Tiezhu stood by a broken bunker, his mechanical left arm sparking with electricity. He swung his forging hammer and slammed it hard against a twisted armor plate, producing a crisp metallic ring.

"Did you hear that?" he roared, his voice booming like a bell, "Our furnace fire hasn't gone out yet! Not a single person of the Chen family has fallen!"

That hammer blow felt like it struck everyone's heart.

A female warrior covered in scorch marks stood up abruptly and patted the shoulder of the person next to her; an old veteran with a broken leg gritted his teeth, propped himself up on a crutch, and spat toward the outside of the light barrier; even the youth who had been silently repairing the gun lifted his head and grinned.

Low roars gradually rose, not shouts or bellows, but the release of a breath that had been held deep in their chests.

They patted shoulders, bumped fists, and shook hands; there were no unnecessary words, only the firmness in their eyes as they met.

Chen Wuwang walked slowly down from the platform, moving through the crowd.

He took a waterskin handed to him by a clansman and rinsed his mouth, the burning sensation in his throat slightly eased.

His gaze swept over every face—some had cried, some were smiling, some were gnashing their teeth, and some were closing their eyes to regulate their breathing.

But he saw Chen Xiaodao helping a wounded man sit against the wall, saw Chen Tiezhu cursing while dismantling parts as he adjusted his prosthetic limb, and saw the little girl pressing the metal plate tightly against her chest.

He stopped and looked up at the golden light curtain overhead.

It was still operating stably, the light blades at the edge rotating slowly, like sharp teeth guarding their home.

The wind blew past, stirring up wisps of dust that drifted over the armor of the fallen and gently brushed against the hair of the survivors.

The corners of his mouth slowly curled upward.

A faint trace of a smile could no longer be hidden.

He said softly: "It wasn't I who protected you... it was you, who together protected the Chen family."

His voice was not loud, yet it strangely pierced through all the noise.

The whole scene went quiet for a moment.

Then, applause erupted.

It wasn't the uniform kind, but sporadic—some clapping, some pounding the ground, some striking their shields with the backs of their blades.

Laughter was mixed in, accompanied by sobs, yet it was incredibly real.

Chen Tiezhu looked up at him, grinned, and raised his hammer, waving it slightly.

Chen Xiaodao leaned against the wall, eyes closed, his own mouth slightly upturned.

Chen Wuwang didn't say anything more, just stood there, letting this surge of warmth flow through the formation.

He knew this battle wasn't over. The insect swarm would come again, and the Mother Empress would not give up.

He also knew that what followed would be excavation, reinforcement, defense deployment, and even greater storms waiting for them.

But for now—

Now they were still standing here, standing together.

The wind was still foul, the ground was still scorching, and the wounds were still painful. But their hearts were steady.

A clansman ran over and reported in a low voice: "The perimeter of Node 7 has been cleared. Three complete Worker Ant corpses were found, their energy cores undamaged and ready for recovery."

Chen Wuwang nodded: "Send them to the engineering team for priority repair and power supply."

"Yes!"

Another person stepped forward: "Half of the spare Spirit Stones have been transported and are expected to reach the front line within ten minutes."

"Notify the support team to increase vigilance."

"Understood!"

Orders were issued one by one, calm and unhurried. It was no longer a desperate struggle for life and death, but an orderly reconstruction.

This was the true turning point—not relying on a single burst of effort, but on a group of people who, after being in a desperate situation, could still move forward.

Chen Xiaodao opened his eyes and looked at Chen Wuwang: "For the next wave, they will change tactics."

"Then we will break them again." Chen Wuwang looked at him, his tone calm, "Do you trust me?"

"I have always trusted you." The youth paused and said in a low voice, "Just like the day you pulled me out of the ruins."

Chen Tiezhu walked over, his mechanical arm emitting a faint hum: "The light barrier consumes too much energy to last long. I've had the technicians prepare several sets of emergency power supplies that can be connected at any time."

"Good." Chen Wuwang patted his shoulder, "As soon as the engineering team enters, lay the lines immediately."

The three stood side by side, looking at the dead and silent battlefield outside the light barrier.

There were no boastful words, no passionate declarations. There was only one thing they all knew: as long as they had a single breath left, this defensive line would not collapse.

The clansmen returned to their posts one after another. Some began to rearrange firing points, others dragged debris away from the main passage, and even the previously unconscious wounded sat up with the help of their companions to assist in passing tools.

A little boy holding a pile of damaged Talismans walked up to Chen Xiaodao, looked up, and asked: "Can I... can I learn to draw these? The kind that can blow up the insects?"

Chen Xiaodao looked down at him for a long time, then reached out and ruffled his hair: "When you grow up, I will teach you."

The child's eyes lit up instantly.

In the distance, the wind swept up a charred leaf, which spiraled and landed on a tattered battle flag. The flag had been mostly burnt away, but the lower half of the character "Chen" was still clearly visible.

Chen Wuwang took one last look at the battlefield and turned toward the command position.

His boots stepped through the bloody mud, leaving a trail of uneven footprints.

The light barrier had not been withdrawn, the personnel had not moved, and the defensive position remained.