Wasteland Border Inspector-Chapter 371 - 148: Guardian Spirit Spider Investigates Dapo Town
The seven-kilometer country road is not entirely an ankle-deep muddy dirt track.
Occasionally, one stumbles upon a section of cracked concrete pavement. Though riddled with spider web-like cracks, with edges weathered and crumbling, it barely offers a few firm footholds.
Unfortunately, the lifespan of concrete pavements is only about thirty years.
Beyond that time limit, the condition of the road surfaces deteriorates year by year, let alone now that eighty years have passed.
The remaining chunks of concrete are embedded in the mud like foam, and stepping on them forcefully would result in a brittle "crack" sound, as if they might shatter into dust at any moment.
After setting off a little past ten and hiking for nearly two hours, the outline of Dapo Town’s ruins finally emerged at the end of the view.
Unlike the vast and oppressive ruins of Chuan City, the low buildings here inexplicably give one a sense of familiarity.
Cheng Ye stopped and gazed into the distance. In the misty fog, the slanted roofs and broken walls appeared and vanished intermittently, giving a fleeting illusion of returning to a bygone village era.
But a few more steps forward, and seeing the terrifying cracks on the broken walls, withered vines climbing the walls, the illusion immediately dissipates.
This is ultimately a wilderness abandoned for too long, a ruin of civilization!
Jiang Chuan’s pickup soon followed. First, he fetched a water flask from the back seat and helped Cheng Ye wash off the mud from his lower body, then handed him a pair of clean, tall rain boots.
"New ones, bought to your size this morning."
"Thanks."
Cheng Ye changed into the new boots, tossed the old ones into the rear compartment, and pulled out a map from the glove box to compare.
Dapo Town is a standard crossroads village.
There are no skyscrapers, the tallest buildings being only a few scattered five-story residential buildings, and a four-story government building in the town center.
Now standing on East Street, Cheng Ye looks toward the end of the street, as if his gaze pierces through time to see past prosperity.
Villages like this one often feature a market held every few days.
Villagers from the surroundings would bring baskets of agricultural and aquatic products to sell at the market to supplement household income.
Food stalls and goods stalls would also seize the opportunity to occupy a spot and earn a little money from the massive crowds.
But decades later, the shops along the road have decayed to just wooden frames, the door panels rotting to blackish-brown fragments, indistinguishable from the mud.
The main street is even more dilapidated, with half-meter wide gaps between broken concrete blocks, wild grass piercing through the cracks growing taller than a person, fragmenting the road surface into small pieces.
Occasionally one can see half a utility pole skewed into the ground, entangled with withered yellow vines, resembling a crooked scarecrow.
Cheng Ye walked slowly through, his boots crunching over broken glass and rotting wood, a clear sound in the silent rain curtain.
Soon, he saw the "abandoned grain station" mentioned in the information at the east end of the town.
The courtyard wall, built of gray bricks, had collapsed halfway, revealing the wildly growing mugwort inside, evidently ransacked repeatedly.
Even the heavy iron gate hinges outside the courtyard had been pried away, leaving two gaping holes, like a toothless mouth.
The two of them stepped into the yard, with waist-high weeds tangling against their pants. They could only rely on Jiang Chuan’s Mountain-Cracking Saber ahead of them to hack out a path.
Suddenly, Cheng Ye swiftly turned around, a handgun instantly in his hand.
Two half-human height Ant Wolves were peering from the gate of the courtyard. The moment their eyes met, a deep growl emitted from their throats. Tails between their legs, they bolted away, disappearing into the mist outside the wall.
Cheng Ye’s grip on the gun tightened slightly, a surge of inexplicable panic rising in his heart.
Cold rain drifted from the gloomy sky, an unmanned courtyard devoured by weeds.
Though it was noon, the light was as dim as dusk, with only the patter of rain audible, no other sound could be heard.
No bird calls, no insect chirping, even the wind seemed frozen, leaving only dead silence.
The scene was all too familiar, resembling his past experiences in college when he played "Seven Days to Die" with roommates, teaming up to raid zombie towns in the dark, seeking the thrill of surprise.
But in the game, it was exhilarating; in reality, it turned into bone-chilling cold.
No matter how much stronger he was now, or equipped with Extraordinary Abilities, the fear stemming from memory continued to spread.
Seeing him stop in his tracks with a pale face, Jiang Chuan put away his saber, waiting quietly without urging.
After a minute or two, Cheng Ye slowly exhaled, "Let’s go in and take a look."
A lack of people is also a good thing.
It means an Infected Body won’t suddenly rush out from some corner unexpectedly.
In such abandoned towns, at most, there are dormant infection sources hidden, and as long as one is careful, they can be avoided.
The main warehouse of the grain station is relatively well-preserved, constructed of large green bricks. The white mortar in the wall seams has flaked away, yet it still reveals its past solidity.
Even after fifty or a hundred years, it wouldn’t easily collapse from wind and rain.
However, the iron door had long been removed, leaving an entrance like a silent mouth, its lintel adorned with a large spider web, the strands covered in fine dust and grass flecks.
Jiang Chuan raised his hand to turn on the flashlight, piercing the darkness instantly, both of them holding their breath.
A milky-white spider the size of a human head dangled under the beam in the middle of the grain storehouse, its eight legs curled in as if in slumber.
The torchlight reflected off its body, emitting a cold sheen similar to a shell, with an eerie glaze.
But it remained motionless, its pedipalps untouched, as if it had long since died, hanging stiffly in the air.
